


Disillusioned

by GeneralMajorLieutenant



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: A variety of little kinks actually, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternatively called 'The AU where Alec Lives and Shoots His Son's Boyfriend', Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Family Issues, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Health Issues, Nobody is Dead, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-11 09:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13521567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeneralMajorLieutenant/pseuds/GeneralMajorLieutenant
Summary: Scott Ryder has never been one to strike out on his own; he prefers to follow, have someone else make the hard decisions for him when he can't, or stop him before he does. He's not the greatest leader, after all—not like Sara and certainly not like Alec.But a new galaxy signals a time for change, and Scott gets it after drooling over Reyes Vidal, a man more than happy to hand him his change on a silver platter. It could have been a better one, with less paranoia and fear and pain. Maybe even fewer nights spent alone with a bottle of whiskey, wondering if the love of his life was even alive.His life had certainly changed... But at least he'd gotten to know what it felt like to really be loved and valued. What it felt like to be someone.(~Updates Mondays and Fridays~)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well this started as a simple fluffy concept about a year ago that blew up within three hours and became a dark and overwhelmingly angsty, drama filled AU. Basically everything about this fic has been fleshed out, down to the most ridiculous details (Kindergarten romance? Been there done that! Wedding, anyone? Nah probably not but who knows (Their first marriage occurred on a playground at 5 years old). No okay there's DEFINITELY a wedding it'll be the Epilogue or something so stick around if you want to see Scott and Reyes get married.)
> 
> This AU has gone through a lot of different names (Its first name was "The AU Where Alec Lives and Has to Deal with Scott and Reyes' SHIT" but then it graduated when it got angsty and now it's short and sweet because I was using this insanely long tag to tag EVERYTHING I posted on Tumblr and I'm lazy) This AU is the love of my life actually. My canon is this fic- I don't even acknowledge that Alec's dead and Scott didn't end up an Initiative reject with severe trust issues.
> 
> I took Scott and gave him anxiety with a few more shitty bonuses, then chewed him up and spit him out (with love I love Scott). I also made him fall in love with a compulsive liar who didn't really mean to fall in love with him. Fun stuff. I'm having a lot of fun. Yknow, besides having to write this myself. That part kind of sucks.

Kadara Port. A total hellhole, smelly and vile and not at all very fun—it couldn’t hold a candle to Omega, but it still made Scott nostalgic. The slums were even worse: the quality of life was horrible, the people filthy and aggressive and manipulative, and Scott’s father would absolutely kill him if he found out he and Peebee had slipped off the Tempest to do a little… recon.

Peebee had laughed when he had said that. Using _recon_ has an excuse to have a little fun—it wouldn’t be the first time.

Peebee had said, “ _I guess we’re going to_ recon _Kralla’s. Do a little_ recon _in Tartarus. For the Pathfinder. Recon, recon, recon_. _”_   She’d practically cackled.

By the time they were leaving Kralla’s Song, Peebee was well on her way to thoroughly sloshed while Scott had managed only a slight, pleasant, buzz. Kralla’s was supposed to be the warm up, a taste of Kadara’s _civilization_ before they moved onto greener pastures. Scott, personally, was planning on working his way to completely wasted, but he wasn’t sure what they were really going to do when they were both a drunken mess, vomiting in a back alley while Exiles shot up and did the same.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Scott wondered why the Initiative had brought drugs to a new galaxy. How had the Exiles gotten them?

But tonight was a night for fun. Before the real work started tomorrow and Scott wouldn’t be allowed to even look at alcohol for the next six months.

Peebee stumbled into the elevator, beating the down button as if its existence alone pissed her off. When she looked up at him though, her eyes were gleaming and her smile was relaxed.

“You, my friend, need to remember how to party,” she said, the accusation in her voice lighthearted and well meaning. “Loo-oosen up,” she drawled.

“Kralla’s isn’t exactly a party place,” Scott pointed out as the elevator began its slow, screaming, descent down to the slums. Peebee slurred something about _anywhere_ being a party place, as long as there was booze.

Umi was too tight, too strict. Which, Scott thought, was probably a good thing considering her customers. Kralla’s was for drowning your sorrows and worries in acidic alcohol. _Alone_. Scott could do that on his own, in the storage closet he’d taken as a room on the Tempest.

What Scott wanted was music that would beat him down, the crush of bodies and rough, grabby, hands that would hold him up, and a fruity drink that would seem weak, but after the fifth would hit him so hard he’d wake up without a single memory of the last three days.

And maybe, if he was lucky, wake up alone in a bed, or an alley, or on the fucking floor in a closet with only the physical memory of a very thorough, very brutal, fucking.

Scott didn’t think he’d go looking for it though. If it came to him, however…

 _When in Rome_. _Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Or something_ , he thought.

Scott realized after the elevator came to a stop that Peebee was looking at him curiously, maybe even with a little bit of concern. Even SAM had intervened, dampening the sudden desire for violence with magic (or more likely a mild sedative to haywire nerves) Scott never questioned.

“I’m fine. I’m good,” Scott said as Peebee started pushing him around small pools of sulfur and towards the slimy building that contained Tartarus.

Multi-leveled, blaring music, the sound of a crowd. Drunken and angry, no doubt. You couldn’t exactly be  _happy_ when you were exiled twice over and forced to live in a slum.

In a way, _that_ made Scott happy.

“You need to get laid,” Peebee snorted, pausing just in front of the building and clearly debating which level they should try first.

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.” Scott waited patiently, but his agreement was unfortunately distracting for her. She threw him a sideways glance, as flirty and sly as she could make it.

“Offer still—“

“No.”

“You wouldn’t even know the difference. I'm very vers... versatile!”

Scott laughed and reached out, straightening her top to prevent her from spilling out of it, then patted the swell of her breast. “What’s this then?”

He laughed harder when she gasped and let lose a weak biotic shock that only left Scott vaguely tingly, but she quickly succumbed to her own giggles. Eventually, they were both doubled over, struggling to breathe through their amusement.

As Peebee straightened and pretended to smooth down her jacket, she tried for classy and failed miserably. “I’m a lady, Scott Ryder. How dare you. You know that’s a tit. _Breasteses._ ”

“There’s the problem!”

Peebee lost herself to giggles, pointlessly now, too drunk to really remember what the original point of the conversation had been.

They settled for the bottom level of Tartarus first, and the barely controlled chaos suited Scott perfectly. Men and women danced in cages, angry at the world but too free behind their temporary bars to really care. He caught the eye of a Salarian on the way to the bar, even that under heavy metal security, then looked away when he was waved over with a datapad. No doubt a request, one better suited for Alec.

Who would probably pass it onto him, in the end. But right then, Scott was _not_ Initiative, he was _not_ part of the Pathfinder’s team, and he wasn’t even _armed_ (against SAM’s suggestion).

He ignored the Salarian and eyed the dancers. Then Peebee thrust a mug in his hand, nearly spilling its contents all over him.

“It’s angaran,” she said with a feral grin. "It's like they know your style."

He took a sip, and by his third cup he realized it was _just_ his kind of alcohol. Completely his style. It hit hard all at once, made his lips a little numb and his vision swim a bit, but nothing uncomfortable and nothing he didn’t want.

He’d lost track of Peebee long before he started dancing, so he didn’t push a fourth or fifth glass, only sipped the rest of the third before tossing it.

It made him warm. Really warm. Almost _too_ warm, in that gross and sweaty kind of way, but not quite. Enough that he was excited and able to forget the events that had led them to Kadara. Enough that he was comfortable even when he started dancing, pulled and pushed around, grabbed and groped and squeezed by any and everyone. Nothing meaningful though, no touch lingering to suggest _intent_. That said, _come with me_. He was kissed though. Once, twice, maybe more but Scott didn't count. They weren't the type of kisses that left you weak kneed and running home to tell all your friends about. They were the kind that left you _almost_ pissed off enough to bite the guy’s tongue off. The kind you didn’t really tell _anyone_ about.

And that was satisfying, in its own way.

The _come with me_ happened later, after Scott noticed he was trying to catch the eye of a curious pair of turians and then regretting the consideration. He wanted to wake up sore, not bloody. Not tonight. He was in the middle of the crowd when an arm slipped around his waist and pulled him close against a firm chest, stilling frenzied energy. So he pushed back against the man, pacing his movement to the pounding bass and working to encourage his new friend to participate.

For a moment, he thought he’d gotten a reaction. A brief tightening of the man’s grip on him, the slightest shift of his hips.

But then a hand clapped gently against his forehead and brought his head back against his partner’s shoulder.

Slightly taller, Scott noted. Maybe an inch or two. _Nice_. Solid.

He searched for the man’s eyes as best he could, and found a warm, charming, amber gaze.

 _Nice_.

The man didn’t even speak loudly, just pressed his lips against Scott’s ear, Spanish accent and low voice finally ending any and all squirming he’d been doing. “Your friend sent me after you.”

 _Nice_.

“Great friend,” Scott said, dragging the words out and giving the man his weight. Just to see if he could hold him.

He could.

Peebee was _good_. Great. _Amazing_. Knew how he liked his alcohol and his men.

Then the man laughed, actually _laughed_ , and started dragging him out of the crowd. He got a good look at the back of the man’s head, a fantastic view of his ass, when they spun around and he led Scott, stumbling, towards the stairs by his wrist.

Just a little strange. Scott heard Alec’s voice in his head, warning him about not going anywhere with strangers like he was twelve. Telling him not to talk to anyone he didn’t know in Andromeda unless he had a gun, and suddenly it didn’t matter how strange it was.

There was more laughter when Scott stopped his stranger at the top of the stairs and pressed close, ducking his head so he had to look up at the pleasant stranger.

Scott wasn’t sure he managed the words very well, but he tried. “Where’s my friend? Or was that just an excuse?” He resisted the urge to bite the collarbone just visible under the dark shirt.

Firm hands on his waist, almost inviting until they weren’t. He was pushed at arms length and those eyes, hooded and almost sleepy, still sparkled. He was _amused_.

_Embarrassing._

“Your friend passed out on the couch by the entrance before telling me to find a drunk blue eyed beauty,” the man said, reaching up to smooth Scott’s sweat dampened hair out of his face.

All the better to see him with. Scott could have melted then and there. He was a little older, laugh lines just barely starting to show around his eyes—such _great_ eyes—and they crinkled nicely when he smiled. And his _mouth—_ it was clearly meant to be kissed.

Though they were almost similar in height and size, Scott thought maybe he was softer. Definitely well muscled under the insane amount of clothes he was wearing, but not as hard as Scott was. Then again, he probably wasn’t fighting kett everyday. Legging it through miles of unfamiliar terrain.

He’d still be strong and demanding and Scott couldn’t help but wonder why they were still standing there when he’d just been picked up. When they could be literally anywhere else, completely private or just managing in a cozy back alley.

Those _lips_ curled into a gentle smirk and his fingers moved to tap Scott’s chin, closing his mouth. Scott was grateful for the alcohol. He wasn’t truly embarrassed when he pressed his lips together and had to stop eye fucking the poor man.

So he said “great friend” again. Genius. Scott leaned forward, though not as aggressively as before, so he could look up at his stranger from under his lashes. “What’s your name?”

The remaining hand on his waist never moved. The man said “Reyes” in a way that made Scott want to drop to his knees then and there and say it over and over again.

As best as he could, of course. If he were, hypothetically, on his knees.

So he made do on his feet. “Reyes,” he repeated, slowly so he didn’t mangle the wonderful name by losing control of his tongue. He loved the way it sounded. How he felt when he said it.

The smirk only grew.

“I can ride—I’m Ryder. Scott. Scott Ryder, I mean. That’s me.”

And Scott went and _ruined_ it.

Reyes bit his bottom lip, something Scott found he _really_ wanted to do, and obviously resisted another round of laughter. “I’m sure you can—Are. Scott Ryder, I mean.” His softly spoken slip-up, barely audible over the pounding music, was intentional and mocking, but not cruel.

Scott wanted to hear Reyes say his name again. Over and over.

And then Peebee was at his side, making Scott glare when her hand slapped Reyes' away and replaced it. She even added another two feet of space between them, like it was needed. Or _wanted_. Scott would prefer no space between them. No clothes, even. Super casual full body contact conversation. Ideally horizontal. _That’s_ what he wanted, and he was drunk enough to try and say it.

Before Peebee’s fingers dug into his side like claws and stopped him.

“It’s two o’clock in the morning, Scott. Time to say goodbye to Reyes and get back to the ship,” Peebee declared, sounding very final and very sober.

“What—no—!”

This time the lips pressing against his ear were there to form an angry hiss. Reyes only watched with mild intrigue, a smile ready to break free. “Alec just came in through the lower level, _we need to go_.”

Scott bit his tongue, fear and reluctance waging war inside him all at once. He wanted to stay, test his luck with Reyes. But with Alec on the floor below, and probably storming his way through the crush of bodies looking for _him…_

They needed to go.

“Goodbye, Reyes,” Scott said, allowing Peebee to lead him quickly out the door. Reyes simply raised a hand and wiggled his fingers in a halfhearted wave. Scott stumbled when he winked.

Kadara was small. He’d find Reyes again.

Later, spread out on the floor with Peebee sitting on his chest, Scott might have said he’d fallen in love.

* * *

The hangover was a _bitch_. He’d chugged water and coffee, eaten much more than he could stomach (paid for it kneeling over a toilet), and taken the coldest, longest, shower he’d ever taken to try and shake it off. Scott wouldn’t be touching angaran alcohol again for a long time. Or at least until the piss poor mood that had driven him to it the night before returned.

He didn’t even want to think about the night before. Not that he really could, in detail, since he was missing large chunks of it. But he remembered a crooked smile and sparkling amber eyes, and a voice as smooth as honey saying his name.

Drunken memories, definitely. No way Reyes had been as interested as Scott had perceived.

Scott was sitting in the kitchen with his head bent over his sixth cup of coffee when Alec came in and sat very carefully across from him.

Scott didn’t look up. He simply waited for the inevitable.

“Where were you last night?”

He still didn’t look up when he answered, “With Peebee.” Soft and timid like a child sitting across from his father, about to get the lecture of his life.

He was only wrong in one regard: he wasn’t a child.

Scott could practically hear Alec grinding his teeth together, trying to remain patient. “And where was Peebee.”

He couldn’t resist. Hiding a smile behind his mug, he looked up at Alec and said, “With me.”

Wrong. Wrong, wrong, _wrong_ answer. It was never right, even when he did try. So Scott quickly amended, “We went to Kralla’s. Had a couple drinks. Scoped the place out before we get down to business, y’know?”

Alec’s glare was fierce. Filled with frustration and disappointment and maybe even a little hopelessness. “Then why exactly did SAM locate you in Tartarus? In the _slums_ , unarmed.”

“Never went,” Scott lied. He was, for once, tired enough to be able to hide it well.

Alec knew he was lying but didn’t call him out on it. He let it slide to move onto the point he was making. Why ask questions he knew the answer to if it wasn’t for some greater moral lesson he would try to instill into Scott?

“What you did last night was irresponsible, reckless, and _dangerous._ I know you were unarmed—“

“I’m biotic, dad. I’m _never_ unarmed,” Scott snorted. In a fight against an entire kett compound, he’d reload his gun maybe once. Relying heavily on strong biotics was more useful than wasting time embedding eight bullets into one enemy. He could take out several with a singularity field and a well placed shockwave in the time it took Alec to shoot down two.

“Scott, that’s not the point! If someone had recognized you…” Alec trailed off, lips pressed tightly together in an expression Scott hated was so familiar to him.

He’d made it often enough. When he was just as frustrated as Alec was. _Like father like son…_ Scott couldn’t stand it.

He realized then Alec had been worried. Fearful for him. And then he realized he was starting to feel guilty.

“That’s why we went _last night_. Before we had to parade around as _Initiative_. When we were just…” Scott struggled for a moment, tossing words around in his head before he settled on, “people.”

“We're not _just people,_ Scott. Never were. I just… need you to be more careful,” Alec started after a few moments of tense and awkward silence. His eyes flew around the room, never staying in one place for too long and _never_ crossing Scott. “Sara’s just now getting up and around. I can’t—“

Scott hurried to stop him. Sentimentality wasn’t Alec’s thing, and Scott’s head hurt too much to try and put up with it. So he held out a hand and forced a smile, trying to show his appreciation for the effort as best he could. “Dad, stop. It’s fine, I’m fine. I’ll be careful.”

Alec inhaled sharply and nodded, then stood and said, “Well, time to get started then. Wait for me outside Kralla’s in thirty minutes. We’ll meet Shena after I’m done with Sloane.”

Familiar. Easy. Scott nodded, threw back the last of his coffee, and went to get ready. He decided he felt anything but fine—still too shaky, still completely unsure of his abilities. Voeld, and everything that had happened there, had left a mark alcohol and dancing couldn’t fill. Broken him down to his most basic pieces, but he still hadn’t been put back together quite right.

Scott was uneasy and angry, deep down. Easy enough to ignore, but always there and not _normal_. He didn’t feel right in his own skin.

And he was scared—maybe the pieces of him that had been put back had changed. They didn’t fit together anymore, leaving him permanently altered.

Something to tell Lexi about, he thought. And he’d tell Lexi right after the pyjak started flying.

So there was nothing to do but get dressed for the day, clean himself up, pop an aspirin or six, and smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That is not happening. He’s going to help me with Vehn.” Scott ignored her suggestive grin and the way she waggled her eyebrows. He added rather absently, “Besides, undressing is half the fun.”
> 
> It was as if he’d just spoken complete blasphemy. Her look was one of abject horror, like he’d sprouted two grotesque twin heads. “Scott Ryder, I thought you knew how to have fun! Being dressed is completely counter productive to the very act of copulation, and the removal of such clothing takes away time better spent on foreplay. I can’t believe—I’m appalled, flabbergasted—“
> 
> “Hey, Peebee?”
> 
> “Yeah?”
> 
> “Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for the amazing comments! Lots of people looking forward to an awkward meeting with Shena- I call more mortifying than awkward, but my writing is also not the greatest so capturing feelings is like... Whatever.
> 
> Rereading and editing this chapter made me realize how much I gave up on Alec. Nice? TRYING? Ha think again. What have I done.
> 
> (I'm known for shitty chapter summaries taken straight out of the chapter. Expect them to get worse, or to disappear entirely, I have no idea what I'm doing :D)
> 
> ((Also: Anyone know the difference between M/E ratings? Like the smut's explicit when I get to it, spoiler alert, so... May change the fic rating... Idk... This may also be considered slow-ish burn I still do not know I'm a confused fanfic writer))

Walking through the port towards Kralla’s had almost wiped away the last of Scott’s hangover and the worst remnants of the previous night’s mood. If not for the smell of severely rotten eggs and curdled milk, Scott thought he’d have been headache free, maybe even whistling as he moved through shouting Outcasts and guards who gave him dirty looks.

Looking for a fight, Scott acknowledged.

A fight they’d have lost.

Alec was already waiting for him outside of Kralla’s, but Scott breathed away his worry when he realized Alec wasn’t standing impatiently or glaring at his feet. He was simply leaning beside the door, the very picture of patience—and a bit of frustration, but Scott hoped it wasn’t because of him.

“Things not go well?” _With Sloane_. He resisted saying her name, just barely, in case it would draw Outcast attention. Based on the surprised look of pride his father shot him, Scott had done well.

That look made it easier to breathe, eased his natural worry some.

“She’s a piece of work. I’m hoping our Resistance contact has a better plan.” Alec admitted it quietly, lips barely moving as he worked the door to Kralla’s and it hissed open.

They waited at the bar, ignoring Umi’s scathing threats when they refused drinks, then further refused to fuck off. Alec told her they were meeting someone, Umi said they needed to pay for the space to wait then, and Scott snickered when his father turned to him and mouthed, _what the hell?_

“So Vehn’s locked up here?” Scott asked after Umi moved onto new, _paying_ , customers. He spoke more to fill the silence, impatiently waiting for their contact to come and do it for him.

Alec sighed, eyes downcast and expression dark. “She’s going to execute him soon. I’d rather get him into Resistance hands, but I won’t risk an all out war to do it if that option isn’t one hundred percent foolproof.”

Scott started to bristle and an angry rant began to take shape, but Alec silenced it all with a warning glance.

“Scott, you’ve got to think—“

“Sorry I’m late. Umi, three drinks—oh.”

 _Oh_ was right. Scott felt the blood drain from his face when Reyes interrupted them. Whether it was from shame in the light of day or from a sense of impending doom, Scott wasn’t sure, but he was positive this was a bad omen of some sort. Joints locked and muscles ached under the strain it took to _not_ bolt for the door before his father found out.

Because Alec could _see_ it. Surely he could see it.

Reyes hadn’t played it cool, he didn’t _know_ he should act like he’d never seen Scott before. And Scott had certainly reacted in the worst way possible. If Scott could have managed to look casual, like he’d never seen Reyes before in his life, it would have been too late.

 _Of course_ the one man he’d pursued in a sloppy drunken stupor would be the man he’d do business with the next day. _Of course_ Scott wouldn’t be able to hide his horror, his fear, and to a lesser degree, his disappointment.

He wasn’t one to mix business and pleasure. In theory.

Reyes was off limits.

_In theory._

And then, of all the God awful things Reyes could have done—with _Alec fucking Ryder_ standing between them and watching so carefully it _hurt_ —, he smiled slow and gave Scott the most thorough once over he’d ever been subjected to.

His “hello” wasn’t even modest. It was spoken softly, low and sexy and with all the _I’m interested_ signs he had lacked the night before. Like he was there to hookup with Scott, not do business with the Pathfinder.

Scott’s greeting in return was strangled. He choked it out around panic and resisted the urge to kill himself then and there, beg God for a bottomless pit to open up beneath his feet. Do the job for Alec before Alec had to do it himself.

Alec was furious. Scott saw it in the way he held himself, more cautiously than usual, and how hard he worked to keep the heat from his eyes. “You two know each other?” The question was more a demand, but he focused entirely on Scott with the same look he used to determine structural weaknesses in enemy formations.

 _Fuck_.

Reyes barely spared Alec a glance. “By name only,” he said. It was true enough.

"Y-yeah... um... I spilled a drink...?" Scott cursed under his breath, hating how it sounded like a question, but Reyes nodded his agreement all the same. "I think, and um, I was drunk, so. That probably explains this."

Scott supposed it’d be a bit inappropriate to tell Alec he’d been drooling all over the man twelve hours earlier. Given him not only the _fuck me_ look but the _really fuck me_ look. And, if he’d had a bit more time to toss the idea around in his head, maybe that fourth glass of angaran magic, he’d have come on _a lot_ stronger.

 _Reyes could have been anyone in the galaxy… He just_ had _to be Shena._

And now that Scott was sober, and he understood that his behavior last night wasn’t entirely due to the alcohol; Reyes could have picked him up three sheets to the wind or stone cold sober.

He hadn’t exactly wanted to realize this in front of his _dad_.

Reyes looked away, reluctantly, and broke the little spell, giving Scott a moment to work on a normal breathing pattern. He offered his hand easily to Alec, who had taken the step to move completely in front of Scott, and if he saw anything other than businesslike interest in Alec’s face he didn’t let on. “Shena, to the Resistance. You can call me Reyes.”

While they made their introductions, wary and cautious and taking far too long to feel each other out, Scott realized Reyes had known. Known he was the Pathfinder’s kid. He wasn’t surprised at all to find Scott with Alec.

He also noticed he couldn’t stop _staring_. He saw the way Reyes’ attention would shift, so quickly it was hardly noticeable, to Scott. Right over Alec’s shoulder for a moment before moving back to his face, as if the lapse in attention had never happened. The way he shifted, angling himself ever so slightly in Scott’s direction.

Scott knew enough about body language to know Reyes was doing his best to nonchalantly reinforce interest.

Unfortunately, Alec also knew the very basics about body language.

Umi set their drinks down with a thud, and in the silence that followed Reyes took two and slipped around Alec, offering one to Scott.

“I’m surprised you recovered so quickly,” Reyes mused quietly as Scott took the mug. “I’d imagine after a night like yours you would be miserable in bed for the rest of the day.”

“Yeah, well…” Scott had to clear his throat to get his voice back to normal, and in his mild panic he couldn’t even muster the energy to argue when Alec plucked the beer right out of his hands. “Six cups of coffee and I’m as good as new.” Then he added, voice cracking and so clearly lying it had been pointless to even try, “Can’t say I remember much… _most…_ of what happened.”

Reyes leaned even closer and said, “I would be happy to remind you.” With a smile and a wink that nearly shot Scott’s balance, he destroyed any chance Scott had in convincing Alec nothing had happened.

The flush he felt flooding his face probably worked against his case as well.

“I believe we have something a bit more important to talk about than my son’s... busy night.” Alec spoke pointedly, voice tight as he tried to work Reyes and Scott out on his own.

Reyes’ sharp grin and the clever glint in his eyes died when he turned to Alec, at once serious and somber. Gesturing to the balcony that overlooked the port, he offered an invitation Scott silently turned down.

Scott was sure his presence would test Alec further, which would only hurt Reyes’ chances of coming out on top of Sloane. It also gave him the opportunity to look at Reyes without it being witnessed by his father. The ease in which Reyes slipped past Alec’s guard and had him speaking in softer tones, working out a plan and exchanging information without the added tension of suspicion, was impressive. A skill Scott wished he had.

Serious and intense was a good look—and Reyes used his hands as he spoke. Not blatantly, the movement was restrained, but Scott could easily imagine expressive gestures when he was excited, talking about something he was passionate about.

Scott jumped when a shot glass bumped into his hand, and looked up to see Umi watching him, her amusement hard and dry.

“You’ll need it. Reyes is no joke. And when the Pathfinder realizes he’s been played five minutes after he leaves it’s not gonna be pretty.”

Scott snorted. “I think getting me tipsy would be the worst possible thing then.” He threw back the shot anyway and nearly choked, the burn so painful it brought tears to his eyes. He swallowed the sound that wanted to rip free and glared at Umi. “What the hell?”

A nasty grin for a nasty woman, Scott thought. “Drack liked it,” she said before moving on.

Of course Drack would. Drack would chug the Tempest’s fuel supply if he had the opportunity.

He was still clearing his throat by the time Reyes and Alec rejoined him. Alec decidedly less angry and Reyes still very pleased with himself.

“We have a plan?” Scott asked, then bit away a smile when Alec snapped “ _no_ ” and Reyes said “ _we will_.”

Reyes chuckled and placed a friendly hand on Alec’s shoulder—a hand that was promptly slapped off. “I’ll have something today. Give it time, Pathfinder,” he pushed, far from bothered by being brushed off and glared at. He offered the same hand to Scott and said, too nonchalantly for it to be entirely _normal_ , “It was nice seeing you again, Ryder. I’m sure it won’t be the last time… I’ll be in touch.”

Scott meant for it to be a proper businesslike handshake but there hadn’t been a firm squeeze or professional shake. Reyes _held_ his hand, and the squeeze was gentle, subtle. His touch lingered, and Scott’s palm felt unnecessarily warm even after Reyes left.

It had to have been the shot that gave him the courage to say, “Hate for him to go, but love to watch him leave.”

“Scott.” Like a warning slap, an admonishment for bad behavior, but Alec seemed more weary than angry. “I’ve overlooked the harmless flirting for the last few months, but that is _not_ harmless,” he said with a helpless wave in the direction Reyes had left. “Whatever you did last night—“

“I danced, dad. Absolutely _nothing_ happened with Reyes. Peebee just sent him to find and collect me,” Scott interrupted with matching exhaustion. “I didn’t even know he was our Resistance contact. Thought he was just…” _What?_ Whatever he’d thought Reyes was, his dad didn’t need to know. “Another guy,” Scott finished lamely.

Alec stared hard at him, looking for the lie. He relented, finally, but only after making Scott squirm. “Okay. Nothing happened. Make sure it stays that way.”

Scott bristled at the order—who was Alec to tell him what he could and couldn’t do? Before he could even protest Alec was sighing, his tired patience and the look he gave Scott sucking all the energy out of Scott’s willingness to fight.

“Scott, he’s a smuggler—“

“So’s Vetra.”

“— _but_ there’s something off about him. I get the feeling he’s got a hand in all of this, more so than he’s letting on.” Alec fell silent for a moment, contemplative and slightly frustrated. He scowled and his brow furrowed, the wrinkle it formed deeper now that he was older. Then he offered a placating smile and patted his belly. “Gut feeling, kid. Never been wrong before.”

Scott took the peace offering for what it was and returned the smile with a shaky one of his own. “I think you’re just pissed because he blew you off for me.”

Alec laughed, the sound stiff and dry as if he weren’t used to making it. “Sure,” he conceded as he dropped a hand on Scott’s shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Pay your friend’s bill then and head back to the Tempest.”

Scott sighed and told Umi to keep the change.

* * *

 

Scott sat at the side of the treadmill Sara worked on, watching her feet move slowly, but more steady and sure than they had been the day before. She’d woken up during the kett attack on Voeld, and the timing could not have been worse. Or better.

It was like having an anchor back, one he’d desperately needed. But guilt struck him every time she had to _be_ that anchor, as broken as she was. With implants still periodically misfiring, and having to rebuild strength after months in a coma, Sara shouldn’t have to put up with him.

But she would, and did, and it was so _relieving_.

“Can’t say I like how quiet you are,” Sara remarked, fed up with his silence. “Creeps me out.”

The hum of the treadmill increased as she bumped up the speed.

“I’m a new man.”

She snorted and glanced at him quickly before that could potentially threaten her balance. “Not by choice. At least you’re better than you were a week ago. You were so… _weird_.”

Scott felt his lips twitch into something of a smile and he said, “Peebee says I just need to get laid.”

Sara’s nose crinkled in an expression of absolute disgust. “Gross. I thought we agreed that you’ve never seen a dick in your life.”

“Never, not once,” Scott responded easily as he leaned back to watch her. She _looked_ better. The bags under her eyes were almost gone, she was able to keep a faster pace, and the lines of exhaustion she’d had days before were nonexistent.

“Are things better with dad?” Sara asked after another moment of silence—comfortable, though, instead of awkward.

“It’s getting there. No fights today, but it came close,” Scott admitted only after she threw him another look. More demanding this time than curious.

“No fights, though. I’m so proud of you, you’re growing up,” she teased, then moved to turn off the treadmill. Her breath came slightly faster than normal, but she wasn’t wheezing or gasping or panting like she used to. “He cares, Scott. He’s just shit at showing it so it comes out weird.”

“He treats me like I’m thirteen,” Scott argued, watching as she sat on the floor beside him, water in hand.

He didn’t like talking to Sara about Alec. Not often, anyway. Every time she spoke in support of Alec, it felt like she was drifting away.

She snickered and looked at him from under her lashes, blue eyes sparkling. “Because he knew you longest when you were thirteen. You were a _nightmare_ , Scottie. And you still are. Hooking up with hot smugglers, you think that’s going to fly with _the_ Alec Ryder?”

Scott let his head fall back against the wall and smirked, watching Sara out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve never seen a dick before in my life. Never, not once,” he simply said, laughing when she punched his shoulder. “I don’t even know the guy, Sara. But it’s nice when someone notices.”

“I guess it’s just a bonus he pisses dad off? You should have seen him when he realized how easily Reyes slipped under his guard. _Rich_.”

“Well I can’t argue with that. You should have called me.”

If Sara knew about Reyes, it meant Alec was angrier than he had let on. Enough to vent about it, either to Sara or with Sara in earshot…

The idea of Sara being the one their dad went to, of Sara one day siding with Alec, made him nervous. And her tone suggested that if they dug deeper into the whole Reyes thing, that day was going to be soon.

Scott stood slowly and offered Sara a hand up after he’d found his feet, steadying her when she swayed. “I’m going to go and be productive. Find a way to take Vehn off of dad’s plate or something while he plays diplomat.”

“Not sure dad’ll like that…”

“If I get it done without a single problem there won’t be anything to be mad about.”

“ _If._ ”

“ _When_.”

He left Sara groaning while considering how he would find Reyes, intercept him before he got his plan to Alec.

If Alec was planning on _trying_ again, then so could Scott. After Voeld he didn’t think it would be possible—but with the two successful conversations they’d had that day, Scott allowed himself his old optimism. A little bit of hope.

When Scott made it back to his re-purposed storage closet, SAM piped up.

“New email from an unknown sender, Scott.” The A.I’s voice was polite as always. “Some concern; the message contained a bug. It was harmless, but it scrambled your inbox.”

“Any signature?” Scott asked, immediately pulling up his omni-tool and skimming through dozens of scattered emails for the newly highlighted one. Whoever it was could suck a dick—who _worked_ to read an email?

“Signature reads ‘R.’”

 _Whoever it is can suck_ my _dick_ , Scott thought, ridiculously thrilled. Finally locating the email, unconcerned by the possibility of another bug, Scott flopped down onto his mattress (stolen from the crews quarters—Liam hadn’t been very happy) and read quickly.

 

_To: Scott Ryder  
         From: Unknown Sender_

_Nice seeing you again, Ryder. Can’t say you disappoint sober—I could have done without the mind numbing fear my presence seemed to have caused you, of course, but perhaps third time’s the charm? Without a chaperon, if you can manage._

_I may also have information regarding our mutual friend you’ll find useful._

_Meet me in the port at your earliest convenience. I’ll be waiting._

_R._

 

Scott managed to calmly call Peebee, trying to swallow irrational excitement for the time being, but something must have come across strange in his request. She showed up hardly a minute later, eyes wild and face flushed as she asked, “Who’s dying, what happened to you? What the hell?”

He ignored that. “Do I look good enough to get a second glance but badass enough to break into a prison?”

“Scott, you’re a blue eyed all American boy. You’ll always look good enough to get a second glance, maybe a third if you’re his type, but you will _never_ look badass enough to break into prison,” Peebee responded immediately, no hesitation and confident in her assessment. “I think its the lips. Meant for sucking dick, not growling and snarling.”

Scott smiled a bit, warmed by the backhanded compliment. “Thanks, Peebee. But all American boys have blond hair.”

She frowned and her eyes flicked up to his hair, confusion expressed openly.

“I have brown hair, Peebee.”

Peebee’s only response to that remark was a raspberry and a roll of her eyes. “Well, I’m guessing you’re going to run off to meet Reyes, so just save everybody the time and go naked.”

“ _That_ is not happening. He’s going to help me with Vehn.” Scott ignored her suggestive grin and the way she waggled her eyebrows. He added rather absently, “Besides, undressing is half the fun.”

It was as if he’d just spoken complete blasphemy. Her look was one of abject horror, as if he’d sprouted two grotesque twin heads. “Scott Ryder, I thought you knew how to have _fun_! Being dressed is completely counter productive to the very act of copulation, and the removal of such clothing takes away time better spent on foreplay. I can’t believe—I’m appalled, flabbergasted—“

“Hey, Peebee?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes pushed from the wall, one step closer to Scott, and placed a hand over his heart. “I’m usually the model gentleman.”
> 
> “I don’t believe you.”
> 
> Reyes’ grin was dangerously sly and his eyes gleamed in the low light, mostly flirty but slightly wild. “That’s because I’m lying.”
> 
> The softly spoken words and the look on Reyes’ face sent a pleasant but extremely unwelcome shiver down Scott’s spine. Reyes could have asked him to do anything and he’d have done it—and the realization was completely terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely will not be able to update by 3pm on Mondays- don't know why I thought I did but I definitely can't! 6 hours of chemistry, followed by four more at home, followed by three hours of public speaking (someone please fucking kill me), does not allow time for fics.
> 
> So, updates are randomly place whenever I can on Mondays, by 3pm Fridays... I'll try....

Scott found Reyes leaning against the arms merchant’s building, mostly obscured by shadows and face highlighted by the orange glow of his omni-tool. Completely oblivious, Scott thought, absorbed in whatever he was so furiously working at on the device.

“Looks like you’re ruining someone’s day,” Scott remarked as soon as he was within earshot, maybe a little closer really, and took great pleasure in the way Reyes jumped, startled and surprised, then shut down his omni-tool like a teenager caught watching porn.

After a guilty smile, Reyes said, “Unfortunately, I just did and will continue to do so.”

It was Scott’s turn to jump in surprise when Reyes lashed out, arm wrapping quickly and tightly around his waist to pull him close. For a moment he was too stunned to move, think, or react—too confused by the sudden change. Then he felt something slide into his back pocket, and Reyes’ smile was less guilty and more sinister. Maybe even mocking.

Smart. If anyone was watching they’d just look like two totally oblivious, and really strange, lovers.

“That will help Vehn cut himself out and it can’t be traced back to us,” Reyes explained, patted Scott’s pocket, and let him go with a wink.

It took Scott a moment too long to step completely away, but Reyes didn’t point that out.

When Scott spoke again it was slowly and carefully, making sure he had full control over his voice this time. “Great, but two questions: why me and _how_?”

Reyes shrugged and returned to his position against the building, relaxed and at ease with his thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Why you? I like you more than the Pathfinder—and something told me you’d be more open to taking a risk on Vehn than your father would. You’ll be able to sneak into the cells through a maintenance shaft around the corner. All you have to do is get your information from Vehn and give him my little present.”

Scott was more willing to take the risk, but _sneaking_ was not his forte. He hesitated, but this time Reyes acknowledged it with a slight lift of an eyebrow and the smallest of frowns.

“It’s… risky,” Scott said, voice softened by insecurity. “I’ll be surprised if I can make it through the shaft without setting something on fire.”

Reyes’ shadow of a frown gave way to a shining smile. “I’d say you’re overreacting, but your track record gives that statement some legitimacy.”

Scott couldn’t fight the blood that rushed to his face, both parts excited and embarrassed that Reyes knew that much about him. “You’ve read up on me?”

Reyes bit down on his bottom lip, resisting a laugh, then ran his tongue along the indents he left behind. Scott couldn’t stop watching, couldn’t stop wishing he’d been the one to do that.

And then he reminded himself he was talking with Reyes about _business_. Life or death, even. Maybe. Depending on Vehn.

“If you can make it to Vehn and get out without a single hitch… Find me in Tartarus.”

Probably the greatest incentive Scott had ever been given.

“You did leave me with a pretty steep bill,” Scott pointed out, just barely managing to keep his voice from shaking and his eyes on Reyes.

Reyes pushed from the wall, one step closer to Scott, and placed a hand over his heart. “I’m usually the model gentleman.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Reyes’ grin was dangerously sly and his eyes gleamed in the low light, mostly flirty but slightly wild. “That’s because I’m lying.”

The softly spoken words and the look on Reyes’ face sent a pleasant but extremely unwelcome shiver down Scott’s spine. Reyes could have asked him to do _anything_ and he’d have done it—and the realization was completely terrifying.

“I’ll be waiting, Ryder.”

Scott stood still for several minutes just staring at the spot Reyes had vacated, stunned and pleased and excited all at once. The confidence Reyes had in him, whether it was well meaning or mocking, was one thing Scott could welcome with open arms. It’d been so long since someone had trusted him with something, let alone something so… _important_.

He would _not_ fuck it up.

* * *

 

 ****“SAM, if anyone—including dad—asks where I am, remember that it’s a secret.” Scott mumbled the trigger word to lock his location away from any prying eyes with little to no regret. He was on Cloud Nine, Vehn’s information and nav-points safely tucked away under heavy encryption, and the promise of alcohol and pleasant company an elevator ride away.

As SAM confirmed the success of the little code rewrite, Scott could only hope that it would last the night before Alec discovered it. Or came looking.

The slums were harsher when he was completely sober. Scott was momentarily slowed by sudden anger—the quality of life was completely unacceptable, _dangerous_. People banished due to mob mentality, pitted against each other for resources Kadara absolutely did not have and wouldn’t be able to sustain until Alec got to the monoliths.

And not everyone was a criminal, Scott realized. There were Exile’s here who had simply been dissatisfied with the leadership (and Scott couldn’t blame them)… Exile’s who couldn’t fight back against those trained or otherwise experienced.

He remembered Alec warning him during debriefing. About Sloane, about the Outcasts methods of control and their rules… What little they had known then, and then another debriefing when they had learned more. He should have been prepared for this.

Scott couldn’t stomach the thought of kissing up to Sloane for an outpost. He couldn’t stand the idea of placing an outpost and being unable to offer the Exiles he saw around him refuge.

“Scott, if you do not calm down I will be required to alert Dr. T’Perro.” Even as SAM’s warning came through loud and clear, he felt the effects of its dampening. SAM’s sedative capabilities soothing agitated nerves, rushed through his veins and calmed erratic breathing and sudden anxiety.

Scott stepped out of the elevator and practiced breathing exercises Alec had taught him when he was younger.

Alec was in charge here. Alec saw the bigger picture. Alec wouldn’t be concerned with the slum or the port unless it proved a direct threat to the Initiative.

But Scott _was_ concerned—compassion he couldn’t ignore or fight.

“Where’s Reyes, SAM?” he asked instead, grinding the words out through clenched teeth.

He should have hit Kralla’s first, to blur the sober picture of the slums.

“Tartarus, upper level. There is a room in the back. The doors are locked, Scott.”

A weak lock, Scott discovered quickly. Once he’d found the doors, it took no more than five seconds to open them, but Reyes’ relaxed and easy demeanor suggested that had been intentional.

“I take it we’re celebrating,” Reyes hummed the words, pleasure lighting his face. Maybe even pride, but Scott could easily have been projecting.

Scott took in the room first. Relatively large and open, compared to the rest of the cluttered bar. A large couch and in front of that a coffee table—home to a lone, unopened, whiskey bottle.

A minimalist.

“We’re gonna need more than that whiskey.”

“I don’t mean the type of celebration that leads to mistakes,” Reyes snickered as he sat back against the couch, lazily watching Scott.

_Would it be a mistake?_

“Neither did I. But I don’t like whiskey.” Scott managed the words after great internal struggle, and he wasn’t at all sure it was worth it. Reyes looked at him as if he had just said he kicked puppies for a living.

Reyes sniffed and turned away, back to a datapad that suddenly required his utmost attention. Scott still saw the small smile playing on his lips, though. “I’m not sure I can trust a man who doesn’t like whiskey.”

Scott surprised himself by laughing and ignored Reyes’ halfhearted wave of dismissal. He made himself comfortable on the couch instead, propping his feet up on the small coffee table. “You promised me a first round. I like fruity stuff. For future reference.”

“You’re full of surprises—I would have expected you to like a kick.” Reyes hardly turned his attention from the datapad, but Scott watched close enough to catch the way his eyes gleamed.

Scott hummed as he reached for the whiskey, ignoring Reyes’ scandalized glare while he popped the seal and swallowed a mouthful before he could really taste it. “I like a kick,” he started, pausing to clear his throat and cough away the burn, “but I like it to come later. Like a surprise. Hard. I would have expected you to know that considering our first meeting.”

Scott decided the best and only way to own that embarrassment was to make fun of it.

Reyes choked on a laugh and snatched the bottle from his hand. “Show some appreciation, Ryder. This isn’t liquid gold but it’s close.”

Scott worried, irrationally, when Reyes pushed from the couch and slipped out of the room with only a promise to be back quickly. He couldn’t hide his relieved exhalation when Reyes returned with two glasses, but that relief turned to dread very quickly; Reyes had _only_ returned with two glasses, which meant Scott was stuck with the whiskey.

He still took the glass Reyes offered, but didn’t resist the urge to pout.

“You’ve made me determined to get you to enjoy whiskey.” Reyes placed his datapad and the bottle back on the table, gingerly batted Scott’s feet off of the grungy glass, and sat back on the couch.

As Reyes took a measured sip of the amber liquid, Scott threw it back and cringed around the mouthful. No better the second time—the warmth he enjoyed followed, but was unfortunately the result of a slow burn down his throat and into his stomach.

“It’s horrible,” Scott managed after another cringe.

Reyes only laughed. “You don’t drink whiskey for the flavor, Ryder, it’s for the journey.”

“Spoken like a true snob,” Scott teased. “I don’t exactly enjoy knowing how I get from point A, sober, to point B, drunk. Not a journey I like remembering.”

Another warm laugh as Reyes refilled his glass. “Very telling. You don’t drink whiskey to get drunk either.”

Scott almost choked on the first swallow then gave a pointed look to the second remaining in his glass. “You keep pouring, though.” He leaned closer to Reyes, shoulders just brushing, and acted like he didn’t realize he was doing it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to get me drunk.”

Scott ignored the fingers in his hair, tugging at short strands and freeing them from the confines of a product built cage. “Fortunately you know better,” Reyes said, far too close for the space between them to be considered friendly, but he sat back soon enough and tapped the bottom of Scott’s glass. “Slowly this time.”

Scott grimaced but did as he was told, nearly spitting the bitter spirit out. He didn’t cough after swallowing this time, however, so he allowed it when Reyes moved to fill the glass again nearly as soon as the drink disappeared.

Alcohol was alcohol.

“So what would the Pathfinder say if he found you here right now?” Reyes asked and though he came off as entirely nonchalant, making conversation and picking a lighthearted topic (perhaps), Scott wondered if it was as innocent an inquiry as Reyes portrayed it.

Scott couldn’t really care though. _Wouldn’t_ care, he decided. Whatever Reyes said or believed about whiskey, you were supposed to drink the shit to get drunk. You didn’t drink it for the taste. Fortunately, by his six mouthful, his taste buds were shutting down—and his mind was happy for the rest.

So, Scott ignored the potentially calculated timing of Reyes question and answered, “He’d probably kill us both. Worst case scenario: he kills you and grounds me on Voeld. Or Havarl without weapons.”

Scott eyed his drink and sloshed the amber liquid around before throwing it back. Reyes still nursed his first glass.

“How do you think he’ll react to finding out about your little adventure?”

Scott discarded the glass and reached for the bottle after that question, playing his frown off as a cause of the whiskey. Reyes didn’t scold or comment this time, simply allowing Scott to take a healthy pull from the neck. When he looked over at Reyes, his expression was open and encouraging.

“It’ll be fine,” Scott mumbled. He wouldn’t exactly call himself confident—but there was only so much he should be willing to share with Reyes. At Reyes’ doubtful look, however, Scott couldn’t help but continue. “He’s going to be mad. So, _so_ , mad. It doesn’t matter that I fixed everything, I got Vehn’s information, it won’t matter what I did or retrieved. He’ll find a problem and it’ll be _all_ my fault and Sara will side with him _again_ —” Scott broke off abruptly and took three more gulps from the bottle.

Maybe Reyes was onto something. Getting the kick then and there was preferable to sitting miserably sober and _waiting_ an hour for it to happen.

It meant he’d remember this conversation in the morning though. At least up to a certain point.

After Reyes took the bottle carefully from him, Scott lurched forward and pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes. “That’s… _so_ lame.” He laughed softly and with no small amount of self-deprecation. And then a hand came to rest between his shoulder blades and he took a steadying breath.

As if sensing a need for a change in topic, Reyes asked, “Sara?”

“My sister. Older, but she’s my twin so… does it _really_ matter?” Scott answered and sat back again, forcing Reyes to either remove his hand or have it stuck between his back and the couch.

Reyes’ lips twitched back into something of a grin, and his somber expression gave way to subdued amusement. “I’d imagine so—especially if she’s anything like you.”

Scott had to focus through the haze that seemed to suddenly lay everywhere except around Reyes’ mouth. He wondered if he’d ever be able to have a conversation with the man without wanting to kiss him. And then he wondered if he’d stop wanting to kiss Reyes if he got it out of his system.

He realized he needed to respond when Reyes gave him a knowing smirk. “Uh—no. No, she’s not anything like me. She’s mature and logical and smart—“

“And you’re not?” Reyes interrupted, the wattage of his smile dimming slightly as he clearly fought a frown. The crinkling around his eyes disappeared and so did the sparkle in them.

“You’ve apparently seen my track record.”

“It seems the your father and the Initiative have done you an incredible disservice, Ryder. The track record I have seen tells me you’re a very driven and passionate man, not one who is immature or illogical or stupid.” Reyes paused and allowed Scott to absorb what he was saying as best he could. “In fact, I’ve sought out _your_ help specifically, in case you hadn’t noticed, and its paid off greatly. Did you think it was our first meeting that inspired such confidence, or that very same track record?”

Scott hoped it really was his record. It was full of botched plans and impulsive decisions, and then the reports that completely denounced _everything_ he had done with hundreds of apologies, but Reyes understood. Understood the motive behind each decision Scott had made, whether he’d been granted the authority to do so or not.

He felt himself flush, pleasure and embarrassment in equal parts flooding through him. “I am sorry for that… If I had known you were our contact I wouldn’t have done… all that I did. Just chalk it up to being really drunk—that angaran shit is… intense.”

Another smile that sent blood rushing to all the wrong places. Reyes stood and screwed the cap back on the bottle, a quarter left, and said, “You have nothing to apologize for. I’ll get you some water.”

“Don’t—I need to regret this when I wake up.” Scott smiled in the face of Reyes’ surprise and tried to move to his feet, but the sudden change made the room spin and his stomach heave so he lowered himself to the couch and fell to his side. “I am not making it back to the Tempest…”

“What? Don’t think you can sneak back on the Tempest?” Reyes was teasing him, but the thought that he might currently be unwelcome tempted Scott to face his father if he were caught slipping onto the Tempest a little worse for wear.

Not as bad as the night before—but Scott knew he wouldn’t pass the test, and he didn’t have Peebee to help him.

“Dad would kill me…” Scott mumbled, watching Reyes move around the nearly bare room. The whiskey was stashed away and his attention was once again mostly on his datapad, but he still entertained Scott’s dramatics. “Then he’d find you and probably kill you… I don’t think he likes you very much.”

“Well Kadara doesn’t really like him, so I think he’ll come around.” Reyes made his way back and lifted Scott’s legs to sit down, removing shoes and socks as he did. Scott relaxed when Reyes moved his grip to one foot, the fingers of one hand gently digging into the arch while the other gripped his ankle.

Casually intimate—or maybe just casual. Scott preferred the latter.

“Like how?” Scott just managed the words, slurred now as he lost the will to maintain clear speech and Reyes worked his magic.

“I have a few propositions for the Pathfinder. To make the Initiative a bit more… trustworthy,” Reyes elaborated quietly. The fingers around his ankle spread slightly, tickling the hair just under the leg of Scott’s pants.

“Pros for you?”

“A few. Most are a long term gamble. High risk, high reward,” he admitted, the smile clear in his voice. “Get comfortable, Ryder. I’ll keep an ear out for Alec and wake you up bright and early.”

Scott groaned at the news and at the loss of Reyes’ hands. He didn’t move, however, or even turn to watch Reyes leave—his skin tingled pleasantly where Reyes had touched him, and warmed by the whiskey sleep came easily.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott could guess what Sloane's words had been. He filled them in easily, bitterly. “That I’m too stupid to pull something like that off? Too much brawn, not enough brain?” He bit his tongue, hard, to distract himself from the stinging threat of tears. He hadn’t shed a tear over Alec since he was eight and he wasn’t about to break that record.
> 
> But when Reyes stepped closer behind him, either for support or to remind him that this little episode of family drama wasn’t being aired in private, it was a hard thing to resist. Especially when the hand on his shoulder slid down to his waist, resting there easily. Like it belonged there.
> 
> Drawing Alec’s attention to something else he’d rather not draw attention to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One may ask: will this dumbass ever update on time? The chapters have already been written. What the fuck? Turns out sick horses take up a lot of time when you show up at the barn and your horse is like, "oh hey I'm sick" ... what a jerk
> 
> I've also decided I hate everything about this again and that the rough draft I hated is now the one that I like- I forgot how, as the writer of this story, I have no idea how to write. I want MORE Reyes and Alec interaction, but I've written SO little. Can't fix that until like chapter fuckin eleven so you guys just wait lmfao

Scott woke slowly, taking his time in the face of comfort and the slight concern of multiple familiar voices. One he heard relatively clearly, though mostly because he could feel the low rumble and vibration of it against an ear. The others were more fuzzy, having to fight their way through the beginnings of a hangover and sleep. And someone was _not_ happy. Scott wasn’t sure he really wanted to wake up if it meant facing that.

But then he felt a hand squeezing the back of his neck before the touch moved under his arms, heaving him up so whatever— _whoever_ he was on could sit up.

“Rise and shine, Ryder. Daddy has come to pick you up, the sleepover is _over_.”

A _very nice_ voice to wake up to. Smooth like honey, the rumble from the chest his head rested on comforting. So it was with great difficulty (vocalized by way of groaning and cursing) Scott forced himself back to the land of the living.

After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Scott managed a laugh, ridiculously entertained by the way Reyes had said _daddy_. “Sounds like you just said—”

“I did. The _Pathfinder_ has come to pick you up.”

Nothing less than a bucket of ice water from Voeld could have gotten him up and dressed faster than that statement. His heart beat at his rib cage as if screaming for freedom, to get away before Alec got it. He realized only as he shoved himself into clothes he didn’t remember taking off how compromising his sleeping position had been.

He’d _felt_ Reyes voice because he’d been passed out on top of him, cradled between his legs so that he wouldn’t fall from the couch.

Then Scott remembered his news. His _good_ news, and for a moment he thought that may be enough to eclipse the undeniable anger he saw in his father’s face. Only a moment, though. As soon as he met Alec’s glare, Alec shut his eyes against whatever excitement or cheer he must have seen on Scott’s face. When he looked back, he was well and truly disappointed.

And Scott’s hope and pride had been crushed in one fell swoop.

He knew what that look meant. Alec had heard already—perhaps from Sloane herself. Gone to ask the Outcast leader for one conversation with Vehn Terev, only to learn he’d escaped in the night.

Alec knew what had happened, but he didn’t care.

The understanding made Scott’s blood boil, urged him to pick a fight. Throw a tantrum the likes of which Alec had never seen, because he _hadn’t been there_ when Scott decided to scream. Reyes as a witness or not, he had a piece to say and he’d say it.

Alec recognized this and tried to stop him with a plaintive hiss that fell on uncaring ears.

“You can’t even give me this _one thing_?” Scott practically snarled the words in his own anger. “I have the information we need. I know were we can find the location to the Kett flagship. Vehn is in Resistance hands, as of four o’clock this morning, safe and sound, Sloane is none the wiser, and _you can’t give me this one thing_!” His voice had increased in volume, despite Alec’s warning looks, until he was shouting the words and Reyes was forced to interfere with a hand on his shoulder.

It was then that Scott noticed Cora and Jaal flanking his father. Cora decidedly uncomfortable, especially worried, but Jaal was stifling relief and gave him the slightest nod of support.

At least someone would like what he had done. Then again, Jaal often did.

Alec spoke only after Scott had taken a steadying breath, his voice even and calm—the voice he used to defuse situations with hostiles. “Scott, this is a conversation better had _privately_. We can go back to the Tempest and discuss your decisions—”

Scott snorted a laugh. “No, I think we’ll have it right here, right now.” He took a moment to breathe again, but decided instead he’d allow himself the words designed to work himself up. Alec wouldn’t humiliate or demean him without a fight, not this time. “I really tried this time, dad. To be as quick and efficient as possible so that no one would know. I tried _really_ hard, and I did it! To… To make it easier for you—”

“You wanted to do what you wanted to do, don’t try to make this out to be an act of kindness for your old man,” Alec hissed the words, effectively silencing Scott with a blow designed to hurt. He couldn’t have slapped Scott any harder if he had decided to walk up and do it himself. “What you did was reckless, thoughtless, and _self-serving_. Sloane immediately suspected it to be Initiative, she even went as far to accuse you, but she thinks…” Alec trailed off in his endeavor to dig the knife as deep as possible, obviously searching for a replacement for the words Sloane had really said. As if that would make the truth hurt less.

Like he really cared what Sloane thought of him. It hurt a bit more to learn what Alec thought of him.

And Scott could guess what Sloane's words had been. He filled them in easily, bitterly. “That I’m too stupid to pull something like that off? Too much brawn, not enough brain?” He bit his tongue, hard, to distract himself from the stinging threat of tears. He hadn’t shed a tear over Alec since he was eight and he wasn’t about to break that record.

But when Reyes stepped closer behind him, either for support or to remind him that this little episode of family drama wasn’t being aired in private, it was a hard thing to resist. Especially when the hand on his shoulder slid down to his waist, resting there easily. Like it belonged there.

Drawing Alec’s attention to something else he’d rather not draw attention to.

“You need to start thinking about your place in a machine greater than you, Scott. What you do represents who you work for. Messing up here, on Kadara, where _we_ are the enemy, is _not an option_.”

“I guess if you’re more concerned by the way I got Vehn’s information, successfully, than the information itself, I can just delete it.” Scott knew it was a childish move—Reyes even stopped him when he pulled it up on his omni-tool.

He clenched his teeth together when Reyes pressed his lips against his ear, speaking softly but with enough intention so Alec would hear. “This information is greater than your father’s pride, Scott.”

All at once it was too much. Reyes at his back, Cora’s pitying gaze, Jaal’s complete and utter shock, and the icy disappointment on Alec’s face. The growing suspicion that Scott was the only thing between Reyes and a bullet. _Pressure_. He never did well under pressure like this, when he couldn’t escape with a well placed explosion.

Swallowing rising panic, Scott instead sent the coordinates to Vehn’s datapad to his father. He jumped when Reyes’ fingers bit into his side, a subtle demand for his attention while the sting served to calm haywire nerves.

“I’ll show you out.” It took light encouragement from Reyes to relax battle ready muscles and get his feet moving. Under the volatile mix of shame, hurt, and anger he realized they were being followed only after they stepped out of Tartarus and stood against the railing of the upper level, though Reyes seemed unconcerned by Jaal’s presence.

Scott was grateful for it. Cora would have been awkward stumbling and stuttering, maybe even a lecture depending on how thoroughly wrapped around Alec’s finger she was on this one, but Jaal was a sympathetic figure.

“That was,” Scott began slowly, exerting a measure of control over wayward emotions and desires, “the most embarrassing thing I have ever done in front of an attractive man. And I say this knowing I once shot myself in the foot while flirting with a commanding officer. You'll never guess who it was.”

Jaal’s quiet alarm was comical next to Reyes’ surprised burst of laughter.

“A story I look forward to pulling out of you next time.” Reyes assured a repeated visit with a hand on his shoulder and nonchalance Scott would kill to have. “Now, however, I need to make a deal with your Pathfinder. Ideally one where I profit.”

Scott managed a short laugh, pleased by Reyes’ certainty of a _next time_. He regretted the ruined morning, wondered what it would have been like to instead wake up with all the time in the world to acknowledge who he’d been on.

“I wish you luck. You’ll probably spend the next two hours working circles around each other, each trying to profit individually, until Cora has to prevent my dad from shooting you in the knee.” Scott paused to watch the faint crease of laugh lines appear. “He’s got you pegged, Vidal.”

Reyes’ sly grin would be the death of him. The briefest glimpse of teeth, catching on his bottom lip as if he meant to bite it. Taking full advantage of Scott’s interest—Scott didn’t entirely mind, but he’d need a chase involved. Soon.

“Does he?” Though phrased as a question, Reyes slipped away after patting Scott’s shoulder and giving Jaal a nod.

But Reyes wasn’t sold on a chase.

Scott was left moderately dumbfounded with at least a dozen questions he wanted to ask. Most revolved around the _next time,_ while the rest demanded deeper knowledge about whatever deal Reyes was trying to strike up. Scott had been under the impression that business between Reyes and the Initiative lived and died with Vehn’s recovery, but if Reyes had his fingers in multiple pies… Alec would be visiting more often than either of them would like.

“You look worried,” Jaal remarked, bringing Scott back to the here and now.

He realized Jaal had taken over the responsibility of him, guiding him with a hand on his back down stairs and towards the elevator. Waking up on the wrong side of the bed, so to speak, seemed to take away the entirety of his self-control.

“I highly anticipate dad shooting him in the gut soon… If they start interacting more and more,” Scott admitted, snickering when Jaal turned wide round eyes to him, clearly startled and worried. “He wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. By the time dad’s worked up enough to shoot Reyes, our Kadara business will be over.”

Too wise, Scott supposed, to fall for his answer in light of this information, Jaal pushed on. “Then why are you worried? You claiming fear for Reyes’ well being but denouncing the possibility of any actual harm is… contradictory.”

“You looked so scared,” Scott teased. He smiled when it earned him an exasperated huff.

“Reyes has helped you free one of my people. A traitor to the Resistance to be sure, but Vehn lives to tell the tale all the same.” Jaal stood staring at the elevator doors, thoughtful and contemplative. “It would not have been Sloane’s place, or the place of this port’s angara, to judge and execute him. He is Resistance blood…”

Scott nodded his solemn understanding and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. He’d found a sympathetic ear in Jaal and after Voeld he’d been able to return the favor. His quiet conversations with Jaal in the middle of the night had been eye opening, and while not one suited for comfort, he had suited Jaal just fine.

The simple fact that Scott’s morals were more complicated than Alec’s probably gave him bonus points as well.

“This Reyes, however…” Jaal’s lips twisted into something of a wry smile and amusement flushed his face. “You like mysterious men.”

Scott snorted as the elevator doors opened and ushered Jaal inside, needed the privacy the Tempest offered now more than ever. “You’re assuming I have standards and a _type_ ,” Scott corrected, then assured Jaal he wasn’t such a difficult catch. Easy by most descriptions. In a picky kind of way.

“Then you cling to Reyes like a yevara calf does its mother purely out of spite.” While it had almost sounded like a question, Jaal glanced at Scott from the corner of his eye and smirked a bit too knowingly.

“How would you even know yevara have close relationships with their young?” Scott grumbled.

“Because they are not human.” The remark was sharp but still a friendly attempt at humor, and elicited a laugh from Scott all the same. “Speaking of parent-child relationships, you have a session with Lexi. _At once_ , she said. SAM has apparently been set to alert Lexi if he sedates you more than three times in a twenty-four hour time period. He did a bit more than sedate you this time, however.”

Jaal left him cursing under his breath with a wave and a chuckle. No, Jaal would not be envious of him now.

Scott contemplated the fastest way to get out of his session with the doctor while he took his time getting to the med bay. He couldn’t cry sick to a doctor. And he had no other engagements, and no one, not even Peebee, would save him from Lexi. They had their own evasive plans in action. No one would risk them for Scott.

So Scott assumed the proper amount of shame-faced regret and hurt as he walked into the med bay, but wasn’t surprised when he was called out.

“Scott, I will not have you claiming more _nothings_ or crying cliché phrases you don’t mean, sit down.” The words were short and clipped, unhappy. Worried. Concerned. A whole slew of emotion Scott disregarded.

“I’m over it. I’m fine.” Familiar words that now meant more to him than they should have. Like a security blanket for a child, the more he said them the more weight they carried. The more he could believe them. He sat down on a cot with only the smallest of pouts and met Lexi’s eyes, insistent, as if that would make her believe what he said as well.

“I’m sure you’re over the worst of it, as is your way, but what happened down there was not okay, Scott,” Lexi pressed. Her concern was so real, so genuinely heartfelt, it made Scott sick. “You’re hurting and you have been for months now. If you let it go on too long you _will_ break. You cannot tell me what Alec said to you didn’t sting.”

It hadn’t stung. It had burned deeper than getting blasted in the face with an incinerate. Cut deeper than any Roekaar knife and blasted away more than a shotgun round. To learn that his father thought so little of him, thought him so _selfish_ , or at least have his suspicions confirmed, after years of practical abandonment?

But crying about it wouldn’t change a thing. Crawling to Alec on his hands and knees, begging for forgiveness for a decision made to ease the burden of command Alec bore, pretending, again, that this was a call Scott had made that wasn’t the _right_ one… It wouldn’t be honest, it wouldn’t fix anything.

Scott would bend under worse before he would break.

So he looked at Lexi and said again, “I’m fine.” At another doubtful look, he sighed and pushed on. “Dad didn’t say anything that he hasn’t said a thousand times before, Lexi. I wasn’t exactly blindsided.”

It was Lexi’s turn to sigh, and her concern shifted to pity. “It doesn’t matter how many times the words have been said before, Scott. It doesn’t lessen the effect they can have on you.” She reached out to take his hand, as if he needed the physical comfort and grounding. “Alec is as lost as you are and he is trying. But he’s a stubborn man and doesn’t recognize the… fragility within you—”

“Fragile? I’m not fucking china to be handled with care!” Scott burst, snatching his hand out of hers and surging to his feet.

 _Fragile_? He’d gotten over anything remotely _fragile_ years ago. Alec had _nothing,_ absolutely nothing, that he could wield to truly hurt Scott in the long term. Not anymore.

Lexi followed his movement, remaining calm in the face of his outburst. “I only meant that your desire to please in the hands of someone as firm as Alec is… not ideal.” She was tiptoeing now, reluctant to come out and say what she wanted about him in case it would send him running. “You’ve been through a lot, Scott. You’re caring and compassionate and you mean well, and now you’ve found yourself in a hostile galaxy in the middle of a vicious war working for a cause I know you don’t entirely agree with.”

“Careful, Lexi. If Tann hears I’ll be an Exile.” Scott managed to sneer, but he wasn’t entirely ready to flee yet.

He relaxed further when Lexi gave him a dry smile. “Believe it or not, you haven’t been exiled because Tann believes that between your father, Sara, and myself we can keep you from sabotaging the Initiative.” She pursed her lips then, as if rethinking the exact phrasing, then corrected herself. “That is, Alec convinced him that was the case. After you called Allison on her…”

“After I called her on her shit,” Scott supplied, smiling a little when Lexi nodded.

“And then set your pyjak loose in Tann’s rooms, and called him a tyrant… among other things… you being exiled was discussed. Remember the next time you want to fly off the handle that it was my good word which kept that from happening. That, and Alec’s assurance that you wouldn’t sympathize so strongly with Exiles that you would wish to help them.”

She said that slowly and with a warning, knowing, look that had Scott squirming rather nervously.

“My point is, you are walking a very fine line. Mentally and here in the real world, but unfortunately one is beginning to rely on the other,” Lexi continued softly, her sympathy back in full force but not as unsettling as before. “I’m here to help, Scott. So let me. Had SAM not interfered today, we would be having a different conversation right now with you laying drugged to the cot you had the _choice_ to sit on.”

Scott contemplated that for a minute. He didn’t remember SAM warning him in Reyes’ rooms, not like he usually did, before working implant magic on misfiring nerves.

He thought it had been Reyes to bring him back from that edge. The sting from his grip and the depth of his voice creating a reality Scott could cling to. Maybe SAM had played a little more with his physiology than he’d realized, however.

Had it gotten that bad?

Still, Scott insisted, “I’m fine, Lexi.” The fact that he was standing, not strapped to a table, and not punching walls until his knuckles bled, meant that he could still handle himself. So he left her slumped in a chair massaging her temples, a polite refusal to be the knot she’d relish in unraveling.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eventually this is gonna stray so far from the canon outline it's gonna be ridiculous, and I'll be able to reveal ANOTHER AU within this AU. 
> 
> I'm so drained I'm just foregoing chapter summaries from now on lmaooo I tried... Does NOT work the same way it did with my KS fic ahh

Scott was trying to enjoy his sudden abundance of time since Alec had blacklisted him from any outings—missions or otherwise—and he was doing so stone cold sober at Lexi’s order. Apparently he was a candidate for _addiction_. Scott disagreed. He’d been drinking since he was sixteen (drinking, not _drinking_ ) and now at twenty-two years old had yet to develop any addiction. Craving, maybe, but easily deniable in the face of logic.

Like,  _do I want to wake up and face the day hungover?_ Only on weekends.  _Logic_.

He wasn’t enjoying his self-imposed isolation, however, and after a week of inactivity Scott was crawling through the Tempest’s vents until he found himself in the engine room. He’d just need to slip by Gil, never a hard endeavor, and then Vetra, always _very_ hard, and he’d be free to wreck havoc on Kadara.

He didn’t make it to the door before a thick roll of blueprints hit him in the head.

“Ah, no, sir! I’m under strict orders not to let you into the shuttle bay.”

Scott sighed, caught the papers before they scattered over the floor, and turned to Gil after achieving the look that could break even Sara’s will.

Gil only stared back, completely uninterested. At least on the surface, Scott thought he was wavering slightly underneath the stern act. One didn’t say _no_ to Scott’s baby blues. Unless one was Sara. On a bad day. Or Alec. On... any day.

“Okay, you didn’t let me. I roll to ignore your orders and leave anyway.” Scott thought he had been rather clever, couldn’t even resist the smirk.

“I play poker not Dungeons and Dragons, Ryder.” Gil’s remark was dry, but the slight snicker softened the air between them.

Scott let himself relax and gave Gil a suggestive smile, hoping, maybe, a little flirting would get him a long way. Like off the Tempest, for example. “ _I_ play D and D. Not as often as I’d like, so if you’d be up to remedy that...”

Gil held out but Scott knew he wanted to laugh.

Scott still resorted to whining and pleading, however, after a long minute of intense scrutiny. “Gil, come on, _please_. I’ll say it was Vetra I escaped from if it comes to that—make sure she gets the heat for letting me off the leash. If I stay in this ship _one more minute_ I’m going to _explode._ ” More silence, long and tense and aggravating, had Scott adding, “I’m _biotic_ , Gil. You don't want me to explode on your precious ship."

Finally, Gil broke, his smile practically splitting his face in his pleasure. “This escape wouldn’t have anything to do with a Mr. Reyes Vidal—”

“No, not at all! He may be an end consequence to my escape, but he is _not_ the reason!” Scott’s protest nearly cut off Gil’s announcement of a rather sultry invitation he’d intercepted. Of course, Alec would have had him flag any emails meant for Scott.  _Of course_.

They stared at each other for a moment, Scott slow to process the information while Gil swayed on his feet, cheeky smile in place.

“W… When?” Scott asked so softly he was surprised his voice made it out. If it had been days… Reyes could think he’d ignored the email, wasn’t interested… The fragile friendliness between them could be broken.

“If you leave _right now_ you might be able to make it…” Gil hummed, obviously pleased with the cheap power he currently held over Scott. Smug satisfaction alight on his face.

“Gil…”

He was waved away with a laugh, “I’m not one to interfere with a man’s game of D and D.”

Scott was leaping over the shuttle bay’s railing and launching himself past Vetra, an apology thrown over his shoulder when biotics had to come between himself and her startled chase, before he realized he’d need to thank Gil later. And praise him for the jab.

* * *

 

He nearly broke his nose crashing into Reyes as the older man was leaving Tartarus, and both men ended up crouching while Scott worked through quiet, hissed, curses and pressed a hand against his nose, fighting tears.

“Shit—I’m sorry—oh, _fuck_. Is it bleeding? It feels like I’m bleeding— _shit_.” Scott felt fingers on his chin and refused to look up, in case his face really was a bloody mess, and also because making eye contact suddenly seemed to be a much more painful prospect than a broken nose.

Reyes' grip, however, became insistent and firm until he tore Scott's hand away from his face. “Good news; you’re not bleeding or broken,” Reyes assured him seriously, but there was definitely some form of laughter he was fighting.

“Bad news?” Scott asked, looking up and blinking furiously to chase away threatening tears.

“Why would there be bad news?”

“You prefaced that with _good news_ suggesting that there is _bad news_ ,” Scott pointed out with a grimace and used Reyes’ shoulders to push himself up. He didn’t realize he’d graduated from simply balancing himself on Reyes to patting his chest until Reyes was biting his lip around a smirk. “I… uh… I’m surprised my nose isn’t broken… pretty, um, solidly built… You are, that is…”

 _Shit, shit, shit, that’s bad._ Scott snatched his hands back, shoving them deep into his pockets as if that would curb the need to touch unnecessarily.

Reyes didn’t lose the smirk but he did watch curiously, head titled and eyes slightly narrowed.

“Peebee pulls that off a bit more smoothly…” Scott worked his jaw and popped his lips, trying to accept the awkward silence that followed in an effort to control it. In his defense, he hadn’t really flirted with anyone in over six centuries—he’d smiled and invited with simple gestures and eye contact, but hardly a word had been exchanged during those encounters.

A master at his craft—when amateurs were playing with him.

Scott jumped when Reyes’ hand landed on the small of his back, guiding him out of Tartarus smoothly and without laughing the remark off. Progress. If Scott was planning on taking it anywhere.

“I’m glad you came. I’m having a bit of a business conflict at the moment. One you may be able to help me with.” Reyes moved casually, relaxed and at ease with his attention forward, only sparing Scott a glance when the lack of attention proved nerve-wracking.

It occurred to Scott that he may be the amateur when playing with Reyes. He wanted— _needed_ —that to change.

Scott made a small sound of doubt, dragging the silence out when they reached the elevator until the doors eased open and Reyes was watching him rather impatiently. “I’m not exactly business savvy.”

He considered that a point won when Reyes let out a breathless chuckle and relaxed. Now, if he could get him flustered…

A challenge Scott really wanted to accept.

“You’d be more of a bodyguard… backup, so to speak. An old business rival, though I hesitate to call her such, lifted cargo I was moving for a client.” He didn’t seem too upset by the theft, only the smallest frown emphasizing his displeasure, but Scott wondered at his ability to roll with the punches. He assumed it would take a lot to get a rise out of the older man.

If Scott were a smuggler, he didn't think he could handle someone stealing from him so calmly. Loss of profit, credibility, reputation maybe... He'd lose  _something_ , and Scott really hated losing things.

“How’d she steal it? Can’t be easy, if you’re so popular. Also sounds a bit illegal…” Scott hummed and grinned when Reyes rolled his eyes.

“I have the Pathfinder chasing Roekaar all over Kadara right now. With you, I’m working on killing two birds with one stone.” After a moment of contemplation, Reyes reached around Scott to push the elevator’s emergency stop.

Too close and too personal—Scott was learning the closer Reyes was, the less control he had over his decisions. He’d need to keep at least ten feet of space between them in the future… When needed.

“Zia got my middleman drunk, then stole the ship. The usual.” Now, Reyes showed displeasure. The sneer in his voice was far from lighthearted and his expression shifted slightly, eyes dark and thoughtful. Scott worried for the middleman.

“You speak from experience?” Scott teased, attempting to ease the frustration and tension within Reyes. It worked, mostly, earning him a snort when Reyes reached out to start the elevator again.

“Hardly. I have a three drink minimum when I’m on the job.”

Scott thought about that for a moment, wondered what Reyes was like after three drinks, then realized Reyes had never had more than a glass with him. He'd never even seen him finish the glass. His concern, maybe even suspicion, must have been clear enough for Reyes to eye him curiously.

“Problem?”

“You’ve never had more than a drink with me,” Scott pointed out slowly, watching Reyes carefully as if he could really read the man’s thoughts if he looked hard enough. A hard feat—Gil would probably like playing him.

But then Reyes laughed, genuinely amused by the subtle accusation. “Because you drink alcohol like water, Ryder. There's never enough left for more than one.”

The excuse easily accepted, he could admit his own faults, Scott huffed and followed Reyes out of the elevator and through the port. Busier than the slums, maybe a bit more energy and life, though Scott made sure his guard was up. He tried not to focus too much on his surroundings, on the way guards ganged up on individuals. No matter what Sloane insisted or claimed, there was a better way to manage the port. A way to do it without taking advantage of her own people, and sending them to slums when they wouldn't, or couldn't, take it anymore.

“So, what’d she steal?” Scott asked more to fill silence than out of curiosity… But it would be nice to know what Reyes was dealing with. Weapons or medicine? Food? Maybe he had his fingers in everything.

“I have no idea,” Reyes admitted with a shrug. “The client paid for privacy. Probably something valuable, considering my fees.”

Scott snorted, surprised by Reyes’ loyalty. He’d have been too curious to resist looking. “You still didn’t look?”

“Honor has a price, Ryder. The client paid it.”

“Nice to know you’re so motivated by money. I'd have looked.”

Reyes laughed, cheerful but soft, and bumped his shoulder. “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating.”

“Then you would have punched me and not laughed at me.”

“Fair enough,” Reyes conceded with a slight nod before focusing on the door to Kralla’s Song. “She was here with my middleman, whatever was said Umi will know.”

“I’m not paying this time,” Scott warned, then scowled and pointed at the nearly convincing pout Reyes gave him. “I’m the bodyguard. If anything, you should be paying _me_. We split the profits fifty-fifty.”

Another laugh, though this one was more mocking and indulgent then genuinely amused. Like Reyes were bartering with a child. “Sixty-forty. My reputation is on the line here, Ryder.”

Scott agreed with a grumble and tried to shake off the hand on his back, a childish move noted by Umi as soon as they caught her attention. And she was _not_ happy to see them.

“Do you want a drink or a room? I only offer one.” As gruff and unpleasant as Scott remembered, but he didn’t need to buzz to enjoy the semi-legitimate threat constantly pouring from her glare.

“I’m assuming that’s the room—but we’ll take both.” Scott smiled and leaned forward over the counter, huffing a laugh when she rolled her eyes and turned her glare to Reyes. Perhaps a more serious response would be forthcoming, but Scott hoped it wouldn’t.

“Information, actually. I’ve heard Zia’s back.”

He was disappointed, but that quickly gave way to interest when Umi’s eyes snapped to him for a split second.

“Your ex? She was here,” Umi answered, wiping the counter nonchalantly and only watching Scott with a quarter of devotion.

“Ex?” He couldn’t help but push, but at least had the self-control to catch Reyes’ eye and smirk. “Ex as in girlfriend?” Fledgling jealousy gave way to pleasure when Reyes shifted nervously, cheeks flushing and forcing a soothing smile.

“That’s such a... strong word. We drink— _drank_ together occasionally—I have drinks with a lot of people occasionally—” He coughed once, twice, then turned back to Umi with newfound determination. “So, she was here? With who?”

Scott found himself caught up in that train of thought, oblivious to the conversation between Reyes and Umi. Not that knowing the details really mattered—Scott was technically a hired gun. What did _drinks occasionally_ mean? The context pointed to physicality, especially if Umi had taken the chance to point it out. And drinks with _a lot of people_? Did Scott count? _Would_ Scott count? The knowledge threw him off, unsettled him slightly, and he didn’t realize Reyes was trying to get his attention until he cleared his throat and shook him.

_What’s the big deal anyway? We’re just friendly acquaintances._

Scott failed to reassure or prove to himself what he was feeling was absolutely ridiculous. Which meant he had to contemplate an equally ridiculous question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer for.

 _He said_ drink _, present tense, first._

“Can you check out the meeting spot? I’ll follow the Collective lead. I doubt Zia was really talking to the Charlatan, but you never know.” Reyes was so casual, oblivious, really, to Scott’s unease.

He ignored Reyes’ proposed plan, the question spilling in a rush out of his mouth once they were standing in the bustling crowd of the port. “Is this about getting your cargo back or one upping an ex?”

Reyes’ eyes widened, alight with humor and intrigue. “Are you jealous, Ryder?”

Scott was not amused. He was unsettled, disturbed by his own feelings, and misunderstanding _something_ between himself and Reyes—unrelated entirely to the girlfriend thing or the drinking thing. Something separate he was starting to feel. “Just answer the question, Reyes.”

His seriousness elicited a bark of surprised laughter from Reyes. “It’s about the cargo! I’ll work my contacts, Scott. Give me a call when you get to the meeting spot.”

And like that it was decided, Reyes disappearing into the bustling crowd, leaving Scott stunned and mildly upset, but with a job he couldn’t really drop. Well, he _could_ , but it would be a dick move.

Heaving a sigh, Scott tapped into his comm unit and sent Peebee and Liam a quick message. “Meet me outside the slums in twenty. We’re going exploring.”

* * *

 

Peebee scowled at him through the rear view mirror of the Nomad, but it was a thoughtful scowl. A scowl that promised him, “ _I’m thinking about this very, very, carefully and giving it the due attention it deserves_.” Liam, on the other hand, was laughing into the Nomad’s steering wheel, causing the vehicle to serve and jerk unnervingly.

“For all the bitching and puking you do over my driving, you’re not much better,” Scott snapped, but he didn’t get Liam to shut up until he threatened to take over.

“Okay! I’ve figured it out!” Peebee cried suddenly, making Liam jump and curse and threaten to pull the Nomad over until they could settle down. “They’re old news—”

“ _Old news_? Ryder said drink then _corrected himself_ to past tense,” Scott snorted, then clapped a hand over his mouth at Peebee’s warning hiss and glare.

“It was the bartender who said ex. And not just any bartender, _Umi_. They’re old news. I doubt they even made headlines. And so he fucks a little bit? I fuck a little bit. _You_ fuck a little bit.” Peebee continued with a matter-of-fact, no nonsense tone Scott was hard pressed to argue with.

“Topic denied! Not allowed! I’m vetoing this discussion!” Liam glared when Scott took a breath to argue, but it did very little to deter the topic.

“Don’t be a prude, Kosta! Our Scottie needs relationship advice!”

“I think relationship might be too strong a word.”

Liam snorted, ignoring Scott for the most part and glancing back at Peebee. “Couldn’t he, I don’t know, ask Reyes to his face?”

There was a long moment of silence between them, filled with nothing other than the sound of the Nomad’s engine and the crackle of dry foliage they drove over. And then they laughed. Cackled, almost, doubling over and fighting the tears that sprang to their eyes.

“Let’s pretend Reyes isn’t a liar—” Scott started, then delved back into hysterics as Peebee took over.

“Let’s assume he’s a totally honest God fearing man; you never ask a man to his face about his past relationships, or the current state of his desire to fuck!” She leaned forward, expression open and urgent as if it were highly important that Liam understand this.

“That’s so… stupid,” Liam hissed. “Call your boyfriend, Scott. We’re here.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Scott wiped tears from his eyes and did as he was told, however, and still struggled to muffle the laughter when Reyes answered with a low, pleasant, hello. “We made it. Looks like something was definitely here but…” Scott looked out of the low window as Liam slowly navigated the cliff side, but Peebee squeezed up next to him and pointed out the grated crevice before he could notice.

“See, there?”

Scott gave a small nod of agreement as Liam rolled to a stop, swinging out of the Nomad with new, positive, energy. “Looks like a datapad behind a grate.”

“Probably nav-points for the buyer. Can you get to them?” Reyes asked, voice crackling over the line.

“Seems really complicated…” Scott had mostly mumbled to himself, but located a wire leading from the crevice relatively quickly. “Found a wire—should be able to open it. What happened to a good old fashioned store?”

Reyes snorted, and Scott could imagine the eye roll that followed. “Sloane happened. She takes a cut from everything that comes in the port, so we have to get creative if we want to avoid it. That’s why my business is booming.”

“Smuggling is always a booming business.”

“Touche!” Reyes laughed, then added, “Keep me posted, Ryder.”

“Did you hear how he said that?” Peebee practically purred in his ear and laughed when Scott yelped in surprise. “ _Keep me posted… Ryder…_ ” she mimicked, the false baritone she adopted disconcerting and creepy. “Posted against _a wall_!”

“That’s fucking gross, Peebee! Are you twelve?” Liam shouted from his lounging by the crevice. Sulking, Scott noted.

“He did not say it like that…” Scott grumbled and shooed her away until he found the machine operating the grate. At a positive confirmation from Liam, they had the nav-points sent to Reyes and were back in the Nomad in short order.

“Thanks so much for this, and for keeping it a secret from my dad…” Scott paused, making eye contact with his friends to drive the point home. “But I can handle it from here.”

Liam scoffed and leaned against the Nomad, arms crossed and the smirk on his face irritating. “Showoff.”

Peebee, however, rose onto her toes and attempted to look down her nose at him, lips drawn thin into a scowl. “Witness the courtship ritual of male humans; chest puffing, gun slinging, and biotic prowess. No wonder the boners come fast.” Scott choked on a laugh when she deflated and adopted a sly grin. “Speaking of biotics and boners, I know how you can—”

“No! I’m not hearing this. I’m _never_ going exploring with you two ever again.”

“You’re such a prude, Liam…” Peebee snickered before she ducked into the Nomad and called Gil for extraction. “Good luck, Ryder. And be careful.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot wait to get out of all the canon-esque events. I feel like I have to use them bc how else do I establish?? BUt one more chapter. That's it. Then I'm good. Hopefully. Also smooches. Scott deserves a little smooch I think.

Scott decided very quickly that Zia Cordier was a _piece of fucking work_. And when the time came to send her hurling into a wall with an explosive canister, he did so _gladly_. Even expressed his good mood with a cheer when her body dropped, limp and burning, to the ground before he moved onto her followers.

He thought he heard Reyes laugh, a strange laugh Scott kind of sort of liked, and shout from behind crates, “Having fun yet, Ryder?”

Scott charged two of the remaining four and thought of Cora as he let his biotics loose. It wasn’t… _quite_ like a sneeze. It felt better. Built up energy releasing in a spine tingling rush. He cursed, loudly and aggressively, when one of the last men dampened him, killing the rush with a nasty smile and a simple wave of his hand.  _Now_   he wasn't having fun.

_Like it’s that easy to play God…_

The man cocked his rifle, then screamed and fell to the ground when Reyes blew a knee out. _Karma._

“Next time aim for the head, Reyes!” Scott scolded and approached the sobbing man, trying to shake off the absolute sickening feeling of suppressed biotics. _Wrong_. Unnatural. He hadn’t thought they’d brought the tech necessary to do it.

“I thought you might like to talk to him about his neat trick,” Reyes snorted, peering out from behind his makeshift cover for the last of Zia’s team.

Scott had one woman suspended in a singularity, but had no idea where the other had gone. They had about a minute for that to wear off—enough time for Scott to glare down at the injured man and think, even stomp on the man’s wrist when he tried to hold up his gun. He _did_ have some words. Most involved the dampening device, but the man wriggled too much and a short round of bullets hit his shields as he set to finding it.

"Shit... it's an implant?" A pointless question, because Scott killed the man after he gave him a smug, pained, grin.

Reyes was aiming for the woman struggling and screaming in the singularity field when Scott’s biotics came back, hitting him like a krogan tank. Scott would be ashamed to realize, later, that he’d had to use a heavy stack of cargo crates for support while he breathed through it and discharged the singularity with barely a thought.

Reyes whistled as it exploded, sending the woman flying into the stairs. Officially dead, Scott hoped. He wasn’t looking anytime soon as he struggled to get waves of biotics flowing happy and free back in check.

He noticed Reyes eyeing him while he worked his way through the small building, checking the bodies to make sure they were down. He paused at Zia’s remains, lips pursed and brow furrowed, before sighing it off and holstering his weapon.

Not a look Scott wanted to see, especially after what she had said and what Umi had hinted… But she was dead, and Reyes was smiling at him. So... seemed like he'd won that fight.

“You really… reacted there,” Reyes mused, stretching and popping joints as he started towards Scott.

Scott hummed and fought to get his breathing under control. “It fucking sucked. And then it came back and…” He thought of how best to explain the feeling, then decided it wouldn’t be entirely appropriate. “You never really know what you have until you lose it. And then it comes back. All at once.”

_Lame… So lame._

Reyes mostly ignored the social ineptitude, only smiling at Scott’s attempt. “Thank you for the help. Zia was a piece of work, but I didn’t think she’d go this far… It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

“ _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._ ” He couldn’t resist a little laugh when Reyes scoffed and shook his head. “Have all of your exes tried to kill you?” Scott asked, mostly joking. But a little bit not. Reyes hadn’t been surprised when Zia appeared with goons and guns.

He lost it when Reyes paused in his crate inspection, the look on his face one of stern contemplation as he struggled to remember.

Scott was in tears when Reyes mumbled, “I… don’t think all of them have…” He huffed out a breath and shoved him as he walked by, nearly knocking Scott over in his hysterics. “I suppose you’d also like to hear that some of my exes earned that title because they tried to kill me.”

Scott almost choked and slid to the ground, propping his head on his knees and watching Reyes idly while he continued digging. He was willing to bet they’d find nothing, but the profit loss wasn’t all that bad. “Sounds like you’ve had some complaints, Casanova.”

Reyes’ grin was borderline feral, and the look he threw Scott sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Completely outnumbered by shining praise.”

Scott swallowed the last of his giggles and relaxed, breathing hard as the adrenaline was replaced by exhaustion. “All bark and no bite, Reyes,” he chided, snickering when the older man rolled his eyes. How hard would he have to tease to get the bite? Scott knew Reyes knew, and he thought Reyes was interested... But maybe being nice didn't necessarily mean what Scott wanted it to.

“I’m sure you’ll regret that”—he paused, nose wrinkling in displeasure—“Puts us through all that work and doesn’t leave a thing behind.”

“’s’okay, just pay me in booze,” Scott said, smiling as Reyes made his way back and helped him to his feet.

“I’m sure you’ll be riding that biotic high for quite a while, Ryder.” Reyes ushered him towards the front of the building and kept him straight as they started the long walk back to the shuttle. “And speaking of biotics,” Reyes continued, grabbing Scott’s elbow when he began to drift a few feet away. “You have a lot.”

Scott let himself acknowledge how nice it felt to be kept close. He also discarded the brief flash of fear when Reyes brought up his biotics; when he looked at Reyes there was only interest. No fear, no suspicion, just genuine interest. Maybe not _completely_ genuine, but Scott was happy enough, grateful enough, to ignore the slight distrust.

“N… not that much… Pretty average.” Scott found himself deflecting, unable to handle the slight praise when it came so earnestly from Reyes.

“Scott, you relied almost entirely on biotics for that fight.” It sounded almost accusatory, and he felt vaguely scolded for downplaying abilities he didn’t really put much thought into. “That’s impressive.”

Reyes’ praise seemed calculated, like he’d decided he needed to say it at some point, but he’d needed the right situation and time to do so. He’d had a reason to say it, but it wasn’t to make Scott feel better about himself.

So he evaded the topic, jogging a few feet ahead as if that would shake off the uneasy feeling, and turned to face Reyes. _Distance_ was needed here. If Reyes had a certain distance where he, in his entirety, was _ineffective_ , Scott needed to find it. “What do you want?” He made sure the question was light, not too aggressive or suspicious.

Reyes crossed his arms and followed Scott, trying to close distance Scott worked to maintain. “I want a lot of things, Ryder… You’ll have to be more specific,” he answered careful and slow, curiosity and confusion causing an eyebrow to arch and the appearance of a frown line across his forehead.

“What do you want, exactly, from _me_?” Scott elaborated, stopping so that he could better watch Reyes but holding out a hand to keep him at bay. “I’m enforcing a ten foot rule.”

Reyes’ lips twitched, as if he wanted to smile, but he remained serious and took a steadying breath when Scott glared. “Am I that distracting?”

“I drooled all over you the first time we met, Reyes, what do you think?” Scott snapped, ignoring Reyes’ answering grin so he could continue before the topic was changed. “I can’t… _do_ anything for you. I can’t get you in with the Initiative, I can’t get you in with my dad—I’m sorry he hates you so much by the way—and I’m not a contact that’s worth having, exactly. I’m a recon specialist who’s only on the Pathfinder team because my dad’s the Pathfinder.”

Reyes was quiet long enough for Scott to start worrying. He didn’t think he’d mind being used if Reyes just wanted him as a shield for potential traps. Scott liked fighting, and he liked Reyes’ company. But the silence was concerning. Like he’d pushed Reyes into a corner, maybe pushed farther than he should have, for an answer he really wouldn’t like.

And he was so… _serious_. Which was good, Scott thought, but unnerving. Reyes stared down at his feet, shifting slightly and frowning a bit as he thought. Nothing _good_. Nothing outwardly _positive_.

Then he looked up and offered a small smile. Enough to ease erratic nerves and distract from sudden paranoia. “You’re mistaking me for someone much more ambitious, Scott, and diminishing your worth. You’re _very_ good at what you do, and you’ve offered me an invaluable resource: help I can trust not to stab me in the back.” He paused then, taking a moment to think and then wincing and hurrying on. “Not that I expect you to throw your life on the line at the snap of my fingers—”

 _You probably could_ , Scott thought, but he kept that to himself.

“—and I fully intend to repay you for today, so… I won’t intentionally abuse your willingness to help.” Reyes finished on a lighter note, slightly teasing, with a smile that made Scott forget the ten foot rule. It was really too late by the time he realized his lapse had been taken advantage of, but backing up to reinforce the distance would just be _rude_. He couldn’t be rude.

“So… what Zia said back there… Before I killed her and everything… When she was kind of being a bitch...” Scott started slowly, struggling to meet Reyes’ eyes as the anxiety melted away, giving way to confidence Reyes couldn’t be faulted for. “Was she right?”

Reyes’ grin was all teeth. “About what, exactly?”

 _Everything_. Scott had a number of things he could have said instead to make it easier, but that wouldn’t have gotten him an answer to what he wanted. So, instead, he remained honest. “About you liking me.”

Scott wished for a hole to swallow him when Reyes coughed around a startled laugh, then responded with a question of his own. Nearly mocking Scott as he stepped a bit closer. “So, what you said… back before you killed Zia… when she was definitely being a bitch… Did you mean it?” Before Scott could demand elaboration, Reyes added quietly, “About me being a better man?”

His response was immediate— _too_ immediate. Embarrassing in his determination. “Yes.”

Scott thought maybe he had stopped breathing when Reyes leaned forward, effectively closing the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips against Scott’s ear, so lightly he wasn’t even sure if he was really feeling it. “There’s your answer…” Reyes murmured, and that was _definitely_ a smirk he felt. Heard it shape the words through Reyes’ smug satisfaction.

Scott remembered to breathe only after Reyes had stepped around him and started towards the shuttle. When he was certain Reyes was far enough away, he placed his head in his hands and let loose a litany of curses. Scott only followed when his heart stopped trying to beat its way out of his chest.

Reyes Vidal was _trouble_ , and Scott was deep in it.

* * *

 “I… don’t like that look on your face…”

Scott nearly dropped the cup of coffee he’d been holding, but realized it wouldn’t have burned even if it had spilled all over him. He couldn’t remember when he’d made it, but when he forced himself to take a casual sip it was lukewarm and lacking about eight spoonfuls of sugar and half a cup of creamer.

Scott stared at his sister as intensely as she was staring at him, hoping she couldn’t hear the way his heart pounded. “You don’t like my face?”

“No, I don’t like the _look_ on your face.” He guessed Sara felt it necessary to repeat that. “All… starry-eyed… Whenever you get that look—” Sara cut herself off with a gasp, eyes wide and jaw slack before she recovered enough to rush him. “Who is it? Who is he? Gil? I hear Gil’s very available—or, no, Jaal? No, Jaal’s all over Peebee… But that doesn’t mean anything—oh my god, Scott, I’m so sorry—”

Scott let her ramble as he prepared himself, setting his mug on the table before placing a hand over her mouth. “It’s no one. Can’t it be no one?” Not a lie. That’s why his voice _didn’t_ waver and he _could_ maintain eye contact. Because it _wasn’t a lie_.

Sara batted his hand away and glared up at him. “I’ve known you through every single crush and romance you’ve ever had, baby brother. You like someone.” She paused, studied him a moment longer, before whispering, “Is it Liam? I know he’s already said he’s not—”

Scott waved a hand, relieved by the direction her interrogation had gone. “Liam and I agreed if by forty-five we were still single, we could get married. We have a twenty-four year plan.”

She was a relentless one, Sara Ryder. Her eyes narrowed and she scowled, an expression so like their father’s it made Scott’s skin crawl. Her displeasure was clear in every line of her body. “Then who is it?”

“I’ve recently learned to love and value myself, so maybe that’s what you’re picking up on?” He slipped by Sara, hoping to lose her to another crew mate (maybe Drack would save him), but as soon as he stepped out of the kitchen his omni-tool went off and SAM chimed its email alert.

“An email from Reyes.”

He wanted to open it. Really badly, right then and there. He'd even gotten his omni-tool up before he remembered Sara was still with him. And she was glaring at him,  _daring_ him to do it. Reading the email seemed like it would be the first step to digging his own grave—and Sara really wanted him to start digging.

"If it's not a big deal, open it." She issued the challenge with all the bravado of a twelve year old, but it worked just as effectively as it had ten years ago.

Scott read as casually as possible. With Sara standing on her tiptoes and reading over his shoulder.

 

_To: Scott  
     From: Reyes Vidal_

_Ryder,_

_In case you were wondering; I have better taste in men than I do women. Someone, you’ll never guess who, made me realize this recently._

_I’ve also been thinking a lot about how I could possibly begin to repay you for all the help you’ve been, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I owe you something special._

_Call me when you’ve got a minute. Preferably soon._

_Reyes_

 

They stood in silence for a moment, Scott's elation fading suddenly while Sara continued connecting the dots, and wondered how best to get out of the situation.

“No… You can’t be that serious about him…”

“You’re not mom.”

“I’ll tell dad.”

“I’m an adult.”

“Not with him.”

“You don’t even _know_ him.”

“And you do?”

Scott sucked on his teeth, bit down on his tongue, and contemplated arguing with Sara. Had he ever successfully argued with her? Had they ever _truly_ argued? And was this something he’d be willing to fight for?

Sara stepped in front of him, and the concern in her blue eyes was more irritating than he’d expected. “Was that who you were with today? Taking advantage of dad’s absence?”

She made it sound so _underhanded_. Like he’d run off to party, had been planning an escape for ages. Hardly fair. _Wasn’t_ fair. Scott had taken advantage of his own cabin fever—it had just worked out that Alec was gone for most of the day. And he hadn’t done _anything_ wrong. He’d cleaned up some of the trash, really.

“Reyes needed my help.” Scott spoke a bit too softly for his liking, not enjoying how small he felt in front of Sara. How he felt the need to tread carefully. “It’s also not against the rules to have friends outside of the Tempest, last time I checked. I’m sick of being babied, Sara. From now on, if I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it.”

Sara’s breath hitched and she took a step away, as if his words had been a physical blow. It felt like it had, at least to Scott. As if he'd cut an arm off to lighten the load.

“Reyes—”

“And I’ll listen to what you have to say about Reyes when it isn’t dad’s words coming out of your mouth.” Another statement that took strength he had to dig up from nowhere. Sara’s lips pressed together in a thin line of hurt and shock, now so like their mother it nearly broke Scott’s determination.

He’d never been able to fight with Ellen.

But Sara wasn’t Ellen.

Sara tried a new approach. “Scott, maybe now isn’t the best time to be running around Kadara with someone. We have a mission, we need to focus on it. Vetra has some words too. You may like to hear them sometime.” Trying to appease him. Soften him up to accept what she wanted.

“Changed your tune pretty quick, sis. Seemed like it was all _great_ when you thought I was into Gil and Jaal. And _Liam_ , for fucks sake. They wouldn’t be too distracting? But suddenly you think I’m into Reyes, and that’s _too much_. We have a mission, we need to focus on it.” He bit the words out, welcoming the anger he’d nearly forgotten existed within him. Reyes didn’t make him angry. Didn’t stress him out. Didn’t place outrageous expectations on him.

Sara’s jaw worked and anger flashed in her eyes. Familiar. Like looking in a mirror when that happened. He felt _relief_ when she accepted the anger, fingers curling like she wanted to punch him.

He’d welcome it.

“I won’t help you pick up the pieces _when_ this falls apart, Scottie.”

He sagged against the doorway when she stormed off towards the shuttle bay. No doubt to vent to Vetra. Or Cora. Maybe even Liam. Liam was a good go-to—never picking sides between them. He sat on the fence really well.

Scott sighed, then nearly jumped out of his skin when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder.

“Never thought I’d see the day.” _Drack_. The reassuring rumble did wonders for his mood. Lifted his spirits. “You did good, kiddo. Wouldn’t try that with the Pathfinder though.”

Scott surprised himself by laughing, though it was relatively weak and shook with anxiety. “Not today, yeah…” He took a shuddering breath, trying to calm screaming nerves. “She was really mad.”

It was hard to tell, but Scott thought he saw worry in Drack’s face. He wondered if Drack would recommend Lexi, but instead Drack squeezed his shoulder before starting off with a grunt. “How about some target practice? When you lose, you have to buy me a new gun.”

Scott felt the smile come slow and hurried after the old man. “But _if_ I win?”

“You get bragging rights, kid.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll make up for the shitty kiss in this chapter with better in the next. I promise. It's innnn the works—and in my head I'm screwing Scott over on so many levels I kind of feel bad.
> 
> I've spent so much time being dissatisfied with this chapter I just... am so relieved to be done with it hallelujah

Scott had Reyes’ email memorized. Every word burned into his memory, with a little imaginative tone building thrown in. He’d tried to call several times over the course of two days, but if Sara wasn’t prowling the meeting room, Alec was conducting business with Evfra or Tann and Addison.

So Scott had tried the frequency Reyes had given him during the Zia chase, but the line was pure static. Dead.

He was scowling at the ceiling of his room, contemplating this predicament when Alec appeared in the doorway, clearly uncomfortable and slightly nervous. Enough to get Scott’s attention.

“Have you seen Reyes lately?”

And there it was. The question that had Alec braced for an explosion—probably a reasonable fear. Scott thought it was a brave question, to ask about Reyes after a fight kind of _because_ of Reyes. They hadn’t really spoken since he'd been sent back to the Tempest. Scott didn’t count the three hour lecture that had occurred that evening.

He would have preferred Alec to come with an apology, not the request for help he felt sure was coming.

“Give me a time range for _lately_ ,” Scott drawled, titling his head so he could look at Alec better but refusing to stand. Little things he hoped would bother Alec, get on his nerves.

“Since last week.”

“Then yes, I have seen Reyes lately.” Scott didn’t add that he may see him again. Seemed like teasing a wolf with a hunk of steak. And all communication devices would go on lock down.

At least Sara hadn’t said anything.

Whatever Alec wanted to say, it was really, really, hard for him to say it. He was uncharacteristically fidgety, his discomfort too obvious. He was trying to play nice but didn’t know how and didn’t really want to.

Apparently N7 training didn’t cover basic human decency.

“Scott… I’m going to be honest here, and I need you to handle this _maturely_ ,” Alec said rather impatiently, already setting Scott up for failure. He felt the excitement building, making his stomach flip and hands start to shake. “I need you to talk to Reyes for me. I can’t get a hold of him.”

“I wonder why…” Scott rolled to his feet and started digging through a box of clothes he’d shoved in the corner, looking for the right things. “As it so happens, Reyes has asked me to call him—”

“Scott…” A warning, but one Scott cheerfully ignored. _He_ had the upper hand here, not Alec.

Shoving his head through a black t-shirt and shaking out a pair of wrinkled jeans, Scott turned to his father and smiled. “What do you want me to ask? And this better be prefaced with a ‘ _wow, Scott, I’m so sorry for calling you a selfish little shit for doing a really good thing for me out of the kindness of your heart.'"_

“There are drugs circulating around the slums, Scott. No leads and it’s not Milky Way. This is _serious_ ,” Alec insisted as if Scott wouldn’t understand, as if he wasn’t _serious_ about wanting that apology.

“Would it kill you to just say sorry?” Scott slipped by Alec quickly, ignoring the ache in his chest and Alec’s heavy sigh. A _week_ since he’d been verbally slapped across the face, and Alec couldn’t even apologize. He’d chosen instead to take advantage of a connection he’d refused so proudly.

Scott hurried up the stairs to the meeting room, blissfully empty, and opened Reyes’ information. As the call worked to connect, Scott shrugged off residual irritation and growing worry. He wanted simplicity, time with Reyes without constantly fearing Alec’s opinion, and constantly second guessing Reyes.

All concerns were forgotten when the call connected and Reyes appeared, albeit more static and grain than clear image.

“You have a talent for keeping me waiting until the very last minute, Ryder,” Reyes teased while Scott tried to determine how best to read Reyes when his holo was fuzzy and inconveniencing. Would it be better if he couldn’t see the man’s every expression? Less to obsess over and react to.

“Not necessarily a bad talent,” Scott pointed out, more salacious than he’d really intended. He was fairly certain Tann kept a record of any and all calls that left the ship. “You mentioned owing me something special?”

A flicker across the holo’s face—maybe he’d smiled—before Reyes agreed. “I thought we could go out for drinks. Take the night off. Relax a little.”

“No offense, but that’s not exactly special."

“Sloane’s holding a get together for the locals, and I managed to snag an invite. Is that special enough to go as my plus one?” He asked with such confidence it was as if Scott’s agreement was guaranteed… And Scott was too pleased to be defiant.

“Are you asking me out?” A response that was neither an immediate yes or no, and he managed to ask without seeming too eager or hopeful. Calm and collected, modestly surprised maybe.

Reyes chuckled, and though marred by static it still made Scott’s breath catch. “I promise to be the perfect gentleman.”

“What if I don’t want a perfect gentleman?” Scott was immediately grateful for the haze holo’s provided, in case the blush he felt creeping up his cheeks was as blatant as he thought it was.

Reyes seemed to lean closer to the terminal he was using, and Scott could imagine the fierce smile that shaped his subtle promise. “I feel confident I can be what you want… What _do_ you want, Ryder?”

Scott could have said a multitude of filthy things he really did want, at some point in time. How he’d like Reyes to fuck him ten ways to Sunday, with that rare look in his eye; a look of dark detachment, like Scott wasn’t worth the effort he was putting in. How other times, _most_ times, he imagined Reyes whispering praises into skin he left hot and wanting. A softer fantasy that left Scott unsettled whenever he thought about it, and slightly ridiculous, because what Reyes said in those fantasies suggested worth Scott didn’t have.

Scott didn’t say any of that, however, his breath catching at the mere idea. And the way _someone_ (Alec) cleared his throat behind him.

Reyes’ holo straightened and Scott said coolly, with only the slightest waver, “I want to know about the drugs in the slums. And what time to meet you in the port.”

Reyes’ laughter was a strange mix of surprise and disappointment. Like he’d expected, or wanted, Scott to admit he was sick of the flirting, sick of the teasing, and wanted an _active_ chase. Hated that Alec had prevented that. “I’ll tell you both because I like you, but one comes with a price,” Reyes warned.

“I’ll pay it.”

“Meet me in front of the Outcasts’ headquarters at seven. I’ll see you tonight, Scott.”

“The drug thing? And the price—”

The line was cut, and Scott was left standing with his back tense to Alec, who’s heavy sigh was undeniably _more disappointment_. It wasn’t a surprise at this point. Scott even managed to keep a neutral expression when he turned to face his father, prepared for the deep set creases around his eyes and mouth. Not from years of laughter, but years of unforgiving disappointment.

“Sara, um… she mentioned…” Alec struggled, and while Scott sensed a very near future of mortification, he enjoyed seeing his father struggle so much to handle him. “She mentioned you’re… you may be… serious. About Vidal.”

Not a pleasant conversation to have with a perfect father. Let alone one like Alec. “Reyes isn’t exactly a guy you get serious about, dad.” He wasn’t serious. There was nothing to be serious about. Reyes was fun company, attractive company, and company Scott would happily get naked for—if Reyes would just _tell_ him to. Reyes wasn’t _serious_ company. Wasn’t relationship company.

Which worked, because Scott sucked at that stuff anyway.

But the look on Alec’s face after he spoke didn't inspire confidence. All traces of disappointment gone, replaced by concern and worry and… and _pity_. So alien on features Scott only saw various forms of disapproval and anger in—and he hated it. If this was Alec _trying_ again, it was failing. It was irritating. It was a waste of an attempt.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t be serious about him,” Alec murmured. Like he was the expert on relationships. On _romantic_ relationships. Like he had a _clue_.

Scott took a steadying breath and shook his head, no. “I think,” he started, hating the spiteful, mildly cruel, edge to his own voice. Too much like Alec. “You really don’t want to know what I’m _serious_ about regarding Reyes. But rest assured, it doesn’t involve a ring and vows.” Scott brushed by Alec, hardly daring to look at him because everything always came back to the same childish resentment. “I’ll find out about the drugs, don’t worry.”

He ignored Alec’s softly spoken, _be careful_.

* * *

 

Scott _adored_ Keema. Really loved her, despite the way she seemed to be testing him. Silently judging him, a little. With her eyes. Under all the wariness she tried to hide, she was pleasant, confident— _so_ confident in herself, and comfortable in her surroundings, it was almost infectious. She was smart and cunning, possibly a more brutal, cutthroat, version of Reyes. When Scott had said so, she’d laughed, which had surprised her, and stared at him with wide eyed amazement.

It had made him feel a little stupid. But not really in a bad way. Only that she seemed to think he was missing something obvious.

Then she’d bought him three weak beers, told him he couldn’t get drunk because Reyes probably wouldn’t like that, and worked to soothe the sting left after Reyes had abandoned him. Thirty seconds into the party he’d _invited_ Scott to. She’d told him not to worry about what Reyes was doing (if that was a test, he’d failed it spectacularly), told him Reyes had a reason for everything. That he’d be back soon.

That he was all Reyes talked about lately. That Reyes seemed to really like him. Probably lies she’d made up to make him feel better, but he liked the idea of it all the same.

When Scott asked what she did for a living, she grew cooler. Withdrawing for a moment, unable to hide her suspicion. A moment of weakness, Scott thought, for someone who seemed so in control of herself and her reactions. So he smiled and teased, “You’ve just proven to me you’re not the Charlatan, or else the Collective has a leader who’d be shit if interrogated. Would it make you feel any better if I told you I’m cool with smuggling as long as it’s not, like… people… or drugs.”

His response seemed to be another shocker, drawing a startled little laugh from her. “I’m Sloane’s angaran contact, but it’s mostly an empty title.”

Scott had managed to forget about Sloane, and her blatant glaring, until Keema had brought her up. Being reminded of the woman sitting on a throne, silhouetted by a sunset, glaring poisoned daggers at him… sucked. He shifted nervously and tried to focus entirely on Keema again.

He hadn’t said one word to Sloane… And it seemed his dislike was mutual.

“Does she not… listen to you?” he asked, speaking more softly than Keema had in case they were overheard. Nervous, and hating every single second of that anxiety. Hating that Sloane was causing it.

“Only in extremes. The rest of the time, she throws these parties to mollify my people. They won’t last forever,” Keema answered as she brought her own drink to her lips, eyes cold and distant as she looked around the crowded room.

“Not with a party like this,” Scott agreed. For lack of anything to do with his hands, he slid his own empty mug in circles on the table. “It’s not a party unless you wind up shitfaced, and then wake up with no memory of the night before. It’d really help people forget about the power trip these guys are on.”

Keema sputtered into her glass, choking on quiet laughter. She eyed him appreciatively, and the attention allowed Scott some pride. “I can see why Reyes likes you. To the point of distraction.”

Scott tried not to lean forward too eagerly, tried to hide a smile that threatened to split his face. Like a kindergartner ready for story time. “Tell me more about how much Reyes likes me.”

“Why don’t you go find him and ask him yourself?” Keema gave him a sly grin, though it was more friendly than devious, softening the dismissal.

“Because Reyes seems like a liar, and when I ask him he’ll ask me several roundabout questions that, quite frankly, will confuse me, then go, _there’s your answer_. And I won’t even remember what I asked in the first place.” Keema buried her face in her hands at his response, as if amusement were a terrible thing to show, and when she looked up her eyes seemed teary, shoulders shaking with restrained laughter.

“You know him so well. It’s a shame you let him off the hook so easily, he could do with a healthy dose of fear every now and again.” She paused, maybe for dramatic effect, before adding with a smile, “He’s in one of the side rooms. I’d go make him worry a little, if I were you. He’s too used to getting what he wants.”

Scott contemplated the idea of making Reyes worry as he parted from Keema and started towards the entrance (still under Sloane’s unwavering attention). He didn’t entirely understand what she’d meant, unless it was all about playing hard to get. Make Reyes think he might not have complete control over Scott. In which case, Scott would fail. Amazingly. He wasn’t good at acting.

He rethought that evaluation of himself and his capabilities when he stumbled upon Reyes rifling through cargo crates, cursing under his breath and grumbling about serial numbers. Being, in general, a living slap in the face. It was one thing to understand being used as a… _gun_. Another entirely to be led under the guise of a night out, no work, all play… and have that be another form of the latter.

“ _I owe you something special_ , he says. _Come out for a drink_ , he says. I really should have known the second you offered I’d just be a distraction.” Scott tried to keep his tone casual, but he didn’t think he succeeded in keeping the sneer out of his voice or hide the hurt.

Reyes started so badly he nearly fell from the box he stood on. Scott thought that was guilt filling his expression, making his brow furrow and desperation tinge his voice. “It’s not what it looks like, Scott, I promise.”

“Oh, you _promise_?” Scott bit out, taking a step back when Reyes lowered himself to the ground and started towards him. _Distance_. Really needed the distance right now. Needed to enforce the _range of ineffectiveness_ , maintain control. “You’ve been promising a lot lately, Reyes. Not even hard promises to keep. I’m fucking _easy_. But from where I’m standing, it looks like you invited me out so you could rifle through Sloane’s shit.”

“That’s… not entirely false, but this is for both of us—” Reyes cut himself off and cursed under his breath, the plea in his eyes bright and clear. He rushed past Scott and checked the hallway before turning back, desperate. A satisfying look. “Someone’s coming. We really need a distraction.”

Voice dropping to an instinctive whisper, Scott gave his solution immediately, “I want to punch you.”

Reyes offered a slightly pained smile and said, “I’d really rather you not, so lets make that plan B.”

Indecision weighed heavy on Scott’s shoulders. He didn’t do well under pressure—if punching Reyes wasn’t an option, and a blowjob seemed too extreme, though always a fun distraction… Also time consuming, Scott could be fast but he didn’t think he could get Reyes primed and ready in .5 seconds…

He was also mad.

Scott growled his frustration and snapped, “Don’t make me regret this,” as he reached for Reyes, curling his fingers in the collar of his shirt and tugging him close.

He kissed Reyes hard. Unforgiving and unrelenting, justifiably angry and silently listing all the ways Alec could call this event _stupid_ , or yell at him, right up until Reyes’ hands fell to his waist and pulled him closer. Kissed him back, soft and understanding. Curbing the anger with an apologetic murmur muffled against his mouth. Entirely designed to tease, leaving Scott frustrated and wanting—maybe enough to distract him from the issue at hand.

It was working.

Like nothing Scott had expected, and less than he _really_ wanted, but still pleasant. Reyes restrained himself, kept his grip light and lips lighter. He was unexpectedly tender, or would have been, if he didn’t seem so… _untouchable._

Scott clung tighter when he felt Reyes pull away, as if it could bring him closer when he was already so far away. He dug his teeth into that _enraging_ bottom lip as consolation before Reyes managed to free himself.

“I think we’re clear…” Reyes mumbled, though he didn’t look away from Scott’s mouth. He took that as a positive sign, it slightly lessened the disappointment he felt growing.

Scott hummed and tried to force the grip he had on Reyes’ shoulders to relax. When that failed, he decided he’d failed everything. He couldn’t even remember what he’d been mad about. “I think… maybe one more kiss. Just to be sure.”

Reyes laughed and pulled away, his amusement like a bucket of ice water on a moment Scott wasn’t ready to let go of. “Now you’re just teasing me,” he chided as he worked his way back up onto the crates, rummaging once again.

“I’m dead fucking serious,” Scott argued, glaring when Reyes laughed a little harder. He remembered what he _should_ have been angry about, but couldn’t muster the energy for it. Especially when Reyes brandished a bottle of whiskey like it was intergalactic treasure. “You had me distract Sloane so you could steal some whiskey?” Scott almost laughed at the look of pure horror Reyes threw him as he carefully climbed back down.

He cradled the bottle like it was a fucking baby. Scott pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to completely _lose_ it; leave right then and there and never look back.He’d been overlooked for a bottle of six hundred year old whiskey.

“The only bottle of Mount Milgrom in Andromeda. Triple distilled and six hundred and forty-five years old. This isn’t whiskey. It’s treasure. It’s _p_ _riceless_ ,” Reyes corrected.

“I don’t care what it is as long as it’s strong and you share it,” Scott snorted, still struggling to ignore the way his lips tingled. He had to obsess over a middle school kiss, while Reyes had happily moved on with alcohol.

Tucking the bottle in one arm, Reyes jogged by him and caught his hand as he went. “Show a bit more respect and we’ll see.”

Scott would worship the fucking bottle if it got him another kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am literally the worst at writing smut is2g I cannot for the life of me make it nice and neat and quick. I had plans to get the smut going around chapter 13-14 but then, as I usually do, I majorly changed everything at the last minute (why this chapter is so late. I have a huge game of catch up to play this weekend. In addition to a ridiculous amount of homework and housework. I haven't done laundry in probably two weeks). There's about 3.5k words, and about 2k is smut xD 1k more than what I wanted so kill me please.
> 
> So, enjoy Scott getting fucked a little silly five chapters in advance.

“Oddly romantic for an honest businessman,” Scott remarked just as Reyes tilted the bottle back for the first _honorary sip_ , as he’d called it.

Looked more like a mouthful when he almost spit it out, but Scott wasn’t one to nitpick.

Scott allowed Reyes his recovery as he leaned back on his hands, kicking his heels against the building they sat on. He enjoyed the peace, the silence in the port below—the only sounds came from Sloane’s headquarters, but even the party was muted.

Kadara could be nice in the evening. If only he wasn’t smelling severely rotten eggs with each inhale.

After his coughing fit, and deciding against shoving Scott off of the building, Reyes sighed and passed him the bottle. “Sometimes I forget how beautiful it is. Is Andromeda everything you hoped it would be?”

“I thought I’d be kicking back on a tropical island by now so… not really,” Scott answered before taking a sip of the _priceless_ whiskey. He wouldn’t tell Reyes he couldn’t discern its taste from the whiskey they’d had earlier in the week—it burned all the same. “But… Havarl’s pretty nice… If you can overlook the poisonous plants and all the animals that want to kill you.” Handing the whiskey back to Reyes, Scott looked at him for a moment before turning back to the street below. “Kadara’s not so bad either.”

Reyes laughed at that. “I’m sure I’ll smell like rotten eggs for the rest of my life,” he said, tracing his finger around the mouth of the bottle.

Scott cringed sympathetically as his omni-tool went off. Probably from Alec. Easily ignored. “Here’s hoping the smell goes away.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Reyes snorted, watching Scott as he swallowed a mouthful. “Why’d you come to Andromeda, Ryder?”

“I told the press it was for _adventure_.” One of the smoothest evasions Scott had ever managed, if Reyes would let him get away with it. But he found he _wanted_ to tell. Talk about it with someone who wasn’t Sara, who hadn’t been so affected by Alec’s choices.

It only took a politely inquisitive glance for Scott to break.

“Mom died, dad got us all blacklisted from the Alliance, and we weren’t cut out for colony life…” Scott pursed his lips and plucked the whiskey from Reyes’ hands, deciding a little bit more would not be uncalled for. “I couldn’t even get a job loading cargo onto transport shuttles. Dad thought the _move_ would help the family I guess, Sara agreed because she’s Sara, and I agreed because what else was I going to do? Sara was going, I was a military reject… I’d be alone if I didn’t hop on the train.”

Reyes was quiet, thoughtful, and sympathetic. The only sound between them was the thud of his boot against the building until he huffed a laugh and bumped his shoulder against Scott’s. “I can’t imagine you loading cargo onto transport shuttles.”

“I’d be too good at it. Take all the work from everyone.” Scott tried to keep his tone light, but the way Reyes looked at him was sobering. No longer an expression of casual ease, but genuine, honest, concern that seemed to surprise even him. The first entirely legitimate, uncensored, expression Scott thought he’d ever seen.

“Did you… not want to join the Initiative, Scott?” he asked gently, slowly, profoundly disturbed by the idea.

Maybe it was a disturbing concept. Most people, when they needed a change or a new life, generally just moved to new planets. Different colonies. Scott could have gone Terminus, it’d have been a much easier move. But at that point in his life, there was very little difference between the Terminus system and Andromeda.

And he would have been alone. He’d actually be dead, right now, while Sara and Alec and everyone made a new life.

“It didn’t matter at the time,” Scott replied honestly, considering Reyes openly even after his eyes dropped, either shy or recognizing his slip. “The Initiative though…” He trailed off before he could say something slightly treasonous—one thing to think it, another entirely to actually say it. “Why did you come to Andromeda, Reyes?”

He’d asked to hopefully ease the tension, not expecting Reyes to answer seriously. Reyes proved him wrong, however, after finishing off the last of the whiskey and sighing. He considered his answer carefully, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes locked on the port below, before he said, “To be someone.”

A simple, loaded, answer that left Scott mildly stunned. Definitely reeling. Struggling to find an appropriate response to a confession he hadn’t expected, he almost considered it a low blow. Playing completely unfairly, to say something like that then turn somber puppy dog eyes on him.

He had enough of a buzz to be able to continue the honesty streak, but he’d be embarrassed about it later. “I think you’re someone…” Scott admitted it slowly, still not buzzed enough to ignore old insecurities, but it shook Reyes from his melancholy and got a rather breathless chuckle from him.

“If you’re not careful, I’ll start to think that kiss was more than a distraction.” Reyes refused to make eye contact with him, instead watching the bottle as he tapped it against the cement between his legs.

 _For fucks sake…_ Scott huffed and snatched the empty bottle from his hands, letting it crash to the street below. He cut off Reyes’ startled protest before it began. “I did say I was, and I quote, dead fucking serious,” he snapped, holding Reyes’ gaze for a moment to drive the point home.

He started to turn his head away, satisfied that he’d expressed himself clearly, but Reyes’ hand landed on his cheek and pulled him closer. Scott managed to throw a hand between them, covering tempting lips, before Reyes managed to make contact.

“If you’re going to kiss me again, you better kiss me like you mean it.”

He felt the smile against the palm of his hand, but didn’t get a chance to see it before Reyes’ mouth covered his, intense and frantic and all the things their first kiss had lacked. Bruising fingers, clashing tongues, and the taste of whiskey—a little bit awkward, with Scott wriggling and clinging, maybe trying to climb into Reyes’ lap without falling off of the roof.

Mount Milgrom tasted _much_ better on Reyes’ tongue than it did from the bottle.

Reyes pulled away first, probably to breathe, give Scott a chance to breathe, but he missed the contact. The urgent way Reyes had held him tempered now by more rational thought. But he stayed close, breath fanning across Scott’s face and warm eyes heavy lidded, torn between Scott’s mouth and his eyes.

Reyes decided on his eyes, locking on with intent and wonder, and murmured, “You’re gorgeous…” like he meant it.

Something… broke, when Scott processed what he’d said. The words spoken so tenderly, they’d surprised Reyes as much as they’d gutted and flayed Scott. Drew a sound from Scott he’d later recognize as desperate and needy and so utterly anguished he’d be glad they both overlooked it.

Reyes smothered mutual embarrassment with another kiss. Brutal now, more physical than emotional, the kind you didn’t really tell people about casually because it was more like being fucked than a simple kiss. Anger fueled tension that left Scott shaking, blood thrumming and heart pounding, wincing after a particularly hard nip but holding Reyes with all the strength he could muster.

 _Familiarity_. Tender fantasies could exit stage left—he didn’t particularly like feeling so open and vulnerable. The bruises he’d wake up with would hurt more if they ran deeper than skin.

Another sound escaped Scott when Reyes pulled away— _again_ —face flushed and lips slightly swollen. Scott recognized boldfaced confusion in his winded vulnerability. Complete and total confusion.

“Stay with me tonight,” Reyes whispered and held Scott’s glare without a problem. Unwavering and unflinching… maybe a little bit desperate.

Like he even needed to worry about Scott refusing such a generous offer. Scott hadn’t happily shoved his tongue in Reyes’ mouth just for fun— _well_ … If he’d been thinking farther ahead, he definitely would have said he’d kissed with _intent_.

He’d opened his mouth to say _yes, please and thank you_ when his omni-tool went off again, cutting him short. Leaving both men with a sinking feeling, the instinctive understanding that it was _business_ putting an immediate downer on shared excitement and desire.

“Ignore it…” Reyes mumbled, ducking his head to trail his lips along Scott’s jaw and down to his neck. Peppering his skin with light, open mouthed, kisses. A valiant attempt at distraction, but Scott’s omni-tool pinged again and SAM said something about it being _urgent…_ Reyes voiced Scott’s thoughts, breath cool against heated skin, “Unless the planet is exploding, there are more urgent matters at hand…”

Scott tipped his head back, allowing Reyes more of a playing field, and enjoyed the last of Reyes’ efforts as he propped an arm up and read, with moderate difficulty, the _urgent message_. Hoping it _could_ be ignored, that it would be something that required his attention _tomorrow_. _Late_ tomorrow.

“We’re activating”—Scott jolted, breath catching on a soft yelp, when Reyes found a sweet spot just under his ear—“ _activating_ monoliths tomorrow… Reyes, _please_.” He wasn’t sure if he was protesting the attention Reyes was giving him or encouraging it, but Scott was fairly confident that he was giving incredibly mixed signals.

One arm around Reyes’ neck held him close, while his free hand pushed lightly at his chest. Inviting and denying— _fucking monoliths._

“I have to be up early tomorrow.”

Reyes chuckled, as smooth as honey, before catching Scott’s earlobe between his teeth. “I’ll wake you up bright and early… I have an apartment here in the port… close to home, quick escape.”

The promise alone was exciting enough to make Scott moan. He could find out the details about the apartment later. He could accuse Reyes of making that same promise before and failing to come through _much_ later.

His dick was pretty much on board with forgetting monoliths and Alec and everything Initiative related until much, _much_ , later.

“One question.” Scott forced the words out through a tight throat, waiting until Reyes hummed against his neck before continuing, “Where’s this apartment?”

* * *

 

Reyes was almost cruel in his intensity, all blunt pressure, bruising fingers and mouth. He’d definitely ripped a shirt, but to be fair Scott had ripped his first. An equal give and take, except not so much after Reyes had peeled every piece of fabric from his body and managed to smother him. Then it was a struggle; Scott was kept pinned to the bed by one surprisingly strong arm while Reyes lavished him with unnerving, undivided, attention.

Fucking moderately sober was an entirely different ballgame. Scott was aware of his vulnerability, aware of insecurities he wouldn’t think twice about if he were wasted. He could think about Reyes while he squirmed and cried and begged beneath him. He would remember the heat in his eyes.

Scott was aware of the strange intimacy between them, some tension born from hesitancy. Both men had planned something more impersonal, something they could walk away from in the morning still as casual as they’d been a day before, but the way Reyes touched him, kissed him, and the way Scott felt…

Reyes knew what he was doing. _Exactly_ what he was doing. He knew his strength, he knew how to avoid Scott’s. Steel muscle under a layer of skin that softened otherwise sharp edges. He didn’t have muscle earned from battle, from charting hostile planets for days on end like Scott, but he knew Scott’s weak spots.

He’d started at the spot just under his ear, relentless, no doubt leaving behind several bruises Scott would have to explain to his family later. _Why didn’t you respond to the monolith call? Sorry, dad, too busy necking like a fucking teenager._

Scott couldn’t make up horror situations involving Alec when Reyes’ hands skimmed down his sides, then traced the path his mouth would follow down his chest.

The brutality melted away. Gentle and tender, completely present in the moment, eyes burning and breath hot against skin dampened by his tongue and Scott’s sweat. He settled between Scott’s legs like he belonged there. A piece to Scott’s broken puzzle. A perfect fit.

Scott’s hands flew to Reyes’ shoulders and a soft, anguished, sound escaped him. Startling Reyes enough to make him stop. “Is this…” _Real?_ Scott couldn’t finish the question, hands seizing where they’d fallen on Reyes’ shoulders.

He was scared of the answer.

Scared of what he _wanted_ the answer to be.

“Make it cheap, Reyes.” The words fell harshly from his mouth, but Reyes didn’t take them personally. He smiled into Scott’s skin, bit into his hip, and exhaled slowly against his cock, which relished in the attention.

“If you wanted to be treated _cheaply_ ,” Reyes began, and pressed a finger down the length of Scott’s cock, smiling brighter when he cringed and writhed under the touch. “You would be in Tartarus right now. Not with me.”

Scott shook under Reyes, protesting verbally but guiding him with his hands. He didn’t want to be anywhere else. He wanted Reyes—everything he could give and more. A terrifying thought, considering he hardly knew more than Reyes’ name and the very basics of his job, but Scott was easy. He _was_ cheap.

And Reyes was everything Scott wasn’t. Complicated. In control.

Deeply satisfied as his tongue followed his finger, lower and lower, sending electric bolts of pleasure up Scott’s spine until he had Scott nearly folded in half, arching off the bed, and kicking out. Gasping and shouting startled curses and occasional praises. _More_ and _please_ and _oh god, stopstopstop._

He had his hands buried in Reyes’ hair when two fingers joined his tongue, filling the space it left behind and reaching deeper, poking and prodding, the burn only adding to the pleasure. Reyes played Scott like a fiddle, had learned his body quickly and used the knowledge viciously.

Reyes’ name left his mouth in panicked repetition as he fucked himself on fingers that were simultaneously _too much_ and _not enough_. He gasped his relief and growled his irritation when Reyes stopped, let him unfold and then pinned his legs to the mattress when he tried to lock them around his waist.

“You have one job,” Reyes said, low and serious. Enough to suggest maybe Scott would need to start _thinking_ , but the effort that would require was so beyond him then, he continued squirming and glaring. “Just lie here and take it.”

Scott reached up and locked his fingers behind Reyes’ neck, pulling him down and forcing him to catch himself on his hands or fall face first into his chest. “Give me something to take and we’ll see.”

Reyes hummed and slid his hands under Scott’s back, closing the distance to kiss and bite and suck as he pleased. Never stopping long enough to let Scott get his bearings. “I hear someone is activating monoliths early tomorrow morning…”

Scott returned Reyes’ kisses with some of his own, making his way up to his ear. “Then you better hurry.”

Reyes laughed, the sound lighting Scott up from the inside out. He stretched over Scott, fumbling through a little bedside table until he produced lube and a condom. “I’m not planning on _hurrying…_ ” he murmured, expression dark, excited, mirroring Scott’s own arousal. “I’ll take my time”—Scott jumped at the _pop_ of the bottle of lube, anticipation locking already tense muscles—“I’ll be thorough. Diligent. Show you how beautiful you are.”

A shuddering breath escaped Scott—he thought Reyes might be serious. When Reyes motioned for him to roll over, he did so immediately. Allowed Reyes to position him how he wanted without hesitation, body tight with need and skin screaming for attention.

He felt touch starved by the time Reyes trailed kisses down his spine, slicked him up and followed suit. It took _ages_. He didn’t do a thing until Scott had melted into a whimpering mess. And even then he was slow, pushing into Scott with painstaking care.

Scott had no idea where that amount of self-control came from. If he pushed, Reyes fell back. One less inch. If he squeezed and rocked and begged, Reyes would do no more than hiss a warning and deliver a sharp slap to oversensitive skin.

Reyes slid home only after Scott was muffling screams into a pillow and fighting to remain on his knees—at the very least. Working through full body shivers that didn’t settle even as Reyes ran his hands up and down his back, and murmured soothing, sweet nothings.

He moved so slowly. Rolling his hips, flush against Scott’s ass, driving him towards a cliff and stopping entirely when Scott threatened to fall. If Scott reached for his cock to finish the job himself, Reyes would slap his hand away, pin it to the mattress and snarl another warning. Nothing to really _deter_ him, every sharply spoken demand enough to make his gut knot and prick jump, leaking against his belly and the sheets.

“Reyes… Reyes, _please…_ ” Words a slurred mess, Scott twisted to look over his shoulder after managing the bare minimum. Sweat trickled down Reyes’ temple, every muscle in his body drawn tight, tension ready to snap.

Scott wasn’t above playing a little dirty. He canted his hips, rocked a bit, testing the waters, so to speak, in case another slap came his way. Reyes only shuddered, fingers digging harshly into Scott’s waist. A flush crept up his shoulders to his face.

The first win of the night.

Hooking his feet behind Reyes’ knees, he rocked a harder, faster. Moaned when Reyes’ head fell back, lips pressed tight together and jaw clenched, a perfect picture of failing restraint. “Fuck me, Reyes. Like you mean it. Give me _everything_.”

The sound Reyes made was animal, frustration and need mixing as he wrapped an arm around Scott’s shoulders and stomach and pulled him flush against his chest. “You keep saying that… _Like you mean it_. What does that mean?”

Scott reached up and behind him, carding fingers through Reyes’ hair, a short tangled mess now, and snapped, “It means _fuck me_.”

To say he was unprepared was a massive understatement. Reyes shoved him back to the mattress, bore his weight on the small of Scott’s back. Cock trapped between his stomach and coarse, cheap, sheets, Scott was fit to burst _before_ Reyes starting fucking him, relentless, merciless. Every pull back far enough that the thrust in felt like being penetrated all over again. Sharp hips slamming against his ass hard enough to force Scott up towards the wall until he had to reach out and brace back.

Reyes leaned over him, breath coming in rough gasps as he dug his teeth into Scott’s shoulder. He showered Scott in praise. How good he was— _so, so good_ —how beautiful, how strong he was. How perfect and _just a little more_ , _it's okay_ —

When Scott fell over the cliff, he was a brittle mess that shattered against the rocks below. His orgasm hit so hard it _hurt_. Muscles locking to a point of pain, glass through burning veins. He only managed to throw a hand back against Reyes’ leg, stilling overstimulating movements.

Scott might have blacked out. The feeling of time lost. Able to bury his head beneath the pillow and force air through constricting lungs, but not much else. A broken, shuddering, cry slipped past his lips; a sound he hadn’t thought he was even capable of making.

He had no idea what Reyes did. He only heard soft and startled laughter, but Reyes didn’t touch him again after a hand down his back made him flinch. He may have left for a few moments, but Scott didn’t emerge from his makeshift hole to find out.

Scott couldn’t even muster guilt for not seeing to Reyes. For not returning the favor—he had the morning to fix it.

Reyes did return at some point. Slipping into the bed smelling like soap and comfortably warm. He wrapped an arm around Scott’s chest, shifting closer carefully, as if Scott would break again. Exhausted, patient, laughter as he pulled him out of the mess he'd made. He'd still wake up sticky. He couldn't find the energy to care.

“Okay?” A simple, quiet, question. One Scott should have been able to answer, but recovery was coming slow. He managed an affirmative nod, and Reyes continued with pleasure in his voice, “You’re a bit amazing, Ryder.” Kind and warm.

Scott had never fallen asleep so easily before. The anxiety and stress had melted out of him, leaving him relaxed and exhausted.

He felt he could take on the world in the morning, if he needed to.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the process of tearing Scott down enough to let Reyes slip in. There's just something so profoundly great about a miserable Scott? Idk?? I just really love it when my favorite characters get all hurt and emotional.

Reyes woke him up at some ungodly hour. But he did it nicely, with roaming hands, soft kisses, and insistent murmurs. A pleasant way to wake up at four o’clock in the morning, with only the haze of neon lights from Outcast headquarters lighting the room. Gentle blues and purples as opposed to blinding sunlight.

Scott was still pissed. He was naked and warm and so, so, comfortable curled up against Reyes’ side. Waking up to residual aches and pains from the night before, as well as the flaky stick of dried come, wasn’t all that great. No matter how soft Reyes lips, or how comforting his embrace.

So he tried to drift back to sleep. Pressed closer to Reyes' side and grumbled for ten more minutes.

But Reyes was persistent. He sat up and shook Scott, harder now. Maybe a mistake on his part, however, as it put his lap at Scott’s head. “Scott, you have monoliths to activate. A world to make habitable…”

Scott shifted and ran his hand up Reyes’ thigh, even managed to force his eyes open to look up at Reyes. “I have a better idea…”

Reyes’ hand was like steel around his wrist, halting its path up to his groin. His smile was small, maybe a little disappointed, but he simply bent over Scott and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “A wiser use of your time will be finding a way to make yourself presentable. I won’t have you getting in trouble because of me, Scott.”

He was right. _Of course_ he was right. Scott rolled out of the bed and stumbled to his feet with a groan, his entire body stiff and sore, joints popping as he moved. An absolutely _amazing_ feeling—he thought he could still _feel_ Reyes on him. In him. A physical memory he’d miss when it was gone.

The bathroom was easy to find, but flicking on the light killed his eyes. He wasn’t ready to get up. He was cold, irritated. If he _had_ to be up, he’d rather have his mouth around Reyes’ cock. Return the favor, show how happy he’d been with the night… or something.

Scott looked like he’d been mauled. At least from what he could see in the mirror. His hair was beyond saving—no amount of water could fix it short of a shower—and hickeys littered his neck and shoulders. Some lighter and smaller, some dark and noticeable. They’d last.

Reyes stood in the doorway, shining with pride as he looked Scott up and down. Biting his lip to hide a smile.

He was bruised. _Everywhere_. Finger shaped marks on his waist, thighs, around his wrists. Things he could hide and things he absolutely couldn’t.

Scott took the washcloth Reyes offered, cleaning himself off as best he could while sorting through regret and frustration. Not for the night before, but for having to leave. He wanted a day to spend with Reyes. He wanted to go back to bed, coherently express to Reyes how _good_ he had been.

He turned on his heel to face Reyes, fully prepared to talk him back into the bed, but ran into hands holding out his jeans and underwear.

“Reyes—”

“I imagine when you face Alec, you’ll want to be fully suited for monolith exploration,” Reyes interrupted with a kind smile. Softening dismissal that was no less painful just because it was said nicely. “Not wearing a torn t-shirt after a night of—”

“Amazing sex?” Scott plucked the clothes from Reyes’ hands and shoved himself into them, trying not to feel like he was being booted out. But maybe he should accept it, learn what it felt like to be on the opposite end of that shoe. He’d kicked enough men out of his room before.

Scott located his ruined shirt in front of the apartment’s door. Left there to make his exit as quick as possible. His walk of shame would be truly legendary; sore and stiff and bruised, torn clothes, hair the biggest mess it’d ever been.

He froze when Reyes pressed close behind him, hands light on his waist and lips soft against the back of his neck. “I was worried I’d hurt you.”

“Yeah, well…” A little bitter, a little sulky, completely unable to keep that out of his voice.

“I would love nothing more than to keep you in bed all day, but we both have responsibilities and jobs.” Scott shivered and leaned back against Reyes despite himself, hanging onto the promise of softly spoken words. “I’ll see you to the elevators. Give me a moment to get dressed.”

“You don’t—”

“I do.”

Reyes drifted away and Scott turned to watch him dress. Quick and efficient, and Scott was pleased to find he’d left a few marks of his own.

He’d do better next time.

There _would_ be a next time.

The walk through the port was quiet. No one out in the early morning, save for a few guards who seemed half asleep. Scott ached to fill the silence, but Reyes seemed content and he wasn’t sure what exactly he could say that would be… _normal_.

Scott wanted… _something_. Something more. All Reyes would give him was the brush of a shoulder every now and then, which could have easily been accidental.

Fucked once (though hands down the best sex he’d ever had) and now he was anxiety laden and insecure. Clingy. Expecting more from Reyes when it had so obviously _just been sex_. Reasons why he preferred anonymous, wasted, trysts. When it was anonymous, you didn’t wake up disappointed when you had to leave.

Reyes caught him around the waist when he finished calling for the elevator, eyes hooded and a slight frown on his face.

“How long does it take to activate monoliths?” he asked, giving Scott a ridiculous amount of hope.

 _He wants to see me again. Soon_.

“Most of the day, sometimes…” Scott wished suddenly and intensely that it would only take an hour. He was good at the little puzzles. Didn’t understand a bit of what was written, but he was good at matching. Unfortunately, remnant were a pain in the ass, and he had to factor in driving time…

Reyes kissed him as the elevator came creaking from the slums, close enough now to be heard. Nothing deep enough to excite, but soft and lingering. A hand on the side of his neck, thumb stroking Scott’s jaw. A promise.

“You know where to find me,” Reyes said with a crooked grin.

Scott croaked out a yes, then added a nod in case that hadn’t been understood.

“Ah, and tell your dad he can find out about Oblivion from Dr. Nakamoto. He runs a clinic in the slums.” Reyes tossed the words casually over his shoulder, like he hadn’t just given Scott information that brought his world back into focus. And saved his life.

He’d completely forgotten. Alec would have _killed_ him if he hadn’t gotten that information.

Scott picked at his ruined shirt on the elevator ride up. Prayed Alec wouldn’t be awake already, and if he was, Scott would at least be able to sneak by him. And then sneak by him again on the way to the armory when it was time to head out. He stretched carefully, testing exhausted muscles to determine if he’d need to be conscientious as they worked through the monoliths.

Decided he would, in fact, need to be careful. Reyes had left the memory of last night deep in his skin, but the echoes of pain were wholly welcome.

He’d probably spend the next two hours tracing the bruises and marks. Visual memory. Every finger shaped bruise a link to Reyes.

Scott didn’t think anything could ruin his good mood. The memory of absolute relaxation and satiation sinking in again now that he'd been reassured of Reyes' continued interest, he slipped onto the Tempest, quiet save for the hum of various machines, completely oblivious. Confident, when he made it through the armory and the shuttle bay without being seen.

He supposed it was only fitting when he ran into both Sara and Alec in the research lab.

Sara saw him first, anger the immediate response until she processed Scott’s appearance. And then she gasped, hand flying over her mouth and a soft, “Oh my god, Scott…” coming muffled from between her fingers.

Some, like Peebee, would say he looked well fucked. Others could probably say he looked beaten. Like Sara. And Alec. But Alec probably understood enough to realize it was the latter. And Sara knew him well enough to assume he’d had an exciting night.

The difference between Sara and Alec, however, was Alec’s disgust. Maybe he could have tried cleaning up a bit better. If he’d been smart, he would have asked to borrow a shirt, a shirt with sleeves, from Reyes.

But he hadn’t been smart. He’d boarded the Tempest wearing torn clothes, sporting rather intense bruises, after a night of ignoring messages from Alec which SAM had insisted were urgent.

When Alec spoke, it was calm and slow and dangerous. So insanely in control of himself it had Scott swallowing fear he resented. “What did you do?” A question that seemed more like a demand.

Scott was tempted to point out that Alec probably didn’t want to know what he’d done. But he also had some sense of self-preservation, so he managed to refrain. “I, uh… I got the information… Reyes said Dr. Nakamoto… in the slums… He, um, knows… about Oblivion. The drug you’re looking for, I think…”

He felt paralyzed. Pinned under a stony glare. Scott couldn’t even shy away when Sara approached him, tilting his head left and right, full of concern. And a little bit of anger. Maybe _for_ him, but also maybe _because_ of him.

“Did you go through… _this…_ ” She gestured to all of him before continuing, “to get that information?”

That managed to distract Scott from Alec long enough to get him moving. He slapped Sara’s hand away and put space between them, hurt and horrified. That she thought so little of him—

“Scott, that was not a price you should have paid.” Alec’s anger gave way, just a little, to concern. He said it like he was trying to explain common sense to a child who should have known better in the first place. Digging the knife deeper. Believing Sara’s _suggestion_ simply because it’d been said. Because _Sara_ had said it.

Scott thought he’d be sick then and there, stomach lurching, a very real threat he had to breathe through and swallow down. Overwhelming, to have both Sara and Alec looking at him like they were. Disappointed and concerned and sad.

He tried to laugh it off. Like maybe it was a sick joke. They weren’t serious, they really didn’t think he’d fuck information out of someone. But they didn’t join in. The disappointment didn’t ease. “Are you serious?”

“Well… If you didn’t, then what was Reyes’ price?” Sara thought she’d posed the most ingenious question. Like she’d caught him in a lie and it was so obvious she’d tripped him up.

She was wrong. “Nothing! He didn’t ask for anything!” He was definitely going to be sick. Having Sara and Alec look at him like that. The same exact fucking expression. Sara was supposed to be on _his_ side. And now she was ganging up on him. _With Alec_.

It was Alec’s turn to speak. He took a step forward, adding to the pressure Scott felt building in his chest. “Reyes isn’t a man who gives information away for _free_ , Scott. If it wasn’t… wasn’t the…” He paled, so painfully uncomfortable it should have made Scott happy. It didn’t. It just made him nauseous. “I don’t want you trading… favors—”

“Dad, stop!”

Sara took a step forward. Worried. Anxious. “Scott, you are a bit—”

The laughter that bubbled out of Scott was a little hysterical, fighting its way through panic. “Slutty? I don’t get paid for that, Sara.”

“I wasn’t—”

“ _Stop_! You were!” He held his hands out, all but begging for silence as he sorted through frantic thoughts. Hard to think through the knife in his gut, emotional pain manifesting physically. It was one thing for Alec to presume something that was such a slight to his character and morals— _one thing_ , but no less _horrible_. Still bad, but not as bad as Sara assuming the same.

What he’d done with Reyes had _not_ been payment for that lead.

“I know I’m not as perfect as Sara… and that I don’t make the greatest decisions when I’m left on my own… But…” He paused, gathering the words he needed to try and properly express himself in a way Alec wouldn’t be able to ignore. He tried to do it maturely, calmly, so that maybe Alec would take him seriously before thinking of denying him his response. “Finding out some of the things you think of me, and think I’m capable of… really fucking hurts.”

Alec rose to denial so quickly Scott should have placed bets on it. “I don’t think less of you, Scott. But you can’t deny coming in like you did, given the situation, isn’t suspicious.”

“You _just_ accused me of whoring myself for information.” Scott barked out a bitter laugh in Alec’s answering silence. “And what about how _selfish_ I was when I took care of Vehn for you. Or how I was reckless, and stupid, and displayed a—what was it? A _careless disregard_ for my teammates lives, and the Moshae’s life, for a _few angara_ on Voeld!” His voice rose until he was shouting and Alec was wincing, maintaining his silence in the face of Scott’s outburst. “You make _everything_ I do cheap and ugly.”

Scott stood, fuming and waiting, until Alec took a deep breath and shook his head.

“You’re young, Scott, but you’re not stupid. You just struggle to see the bigger picture,” Alec started, glaring when Scott opened his mouth to argue. “And that’s not inherently _bad_ , if an entire galaxy isn’t hanging by a thread on the decisions you alone make. Everything we do needs to be done in consideration of Heleus with long term effects in mind. Not the immediate effects of a small area, or a small group of people.”

Scott ground his teeth together until his jaw ached. “The _bigger picture_ is made up of that small area, that small group of people. Just because it’s small, and maybe has a small effect, doesn’t mean it’s insignificant. A Resistance fighter alone under kett attack deserves the same level of aid and attention a kett facility does.”

“That’s not how it works. We can’t save everyone, Scott. What you’ve done, if done _alone_ , would have let a much larger issue slip away, creating _more_ problems. And now you're... oblivious to Reyes' motives.” Alec leaned against the research desk and massaged his temples, as if explaining all of this wasn’t worth the effort.

Scott wasn’t worth the effort.

“Leadership demands the ability to make sacrifices, Scott. And that’s not something you can do.”

Scott felt something inside him break. But it was unpleasant and painful, not like what Reyes had done. One of the pieces, maybe, that hadn’t been put back together correctly. Shaken loose until it hit the ground and completely shattered.

He turned to the nearest wall and slammed his fist against it, the sound leaving his throat miserable and raw, loud enough to bring the nearest crew members running.

“I guess you would fucking know what sacrifice is!” Scott burst, nearly screaming, as he whirled on Alec. “Was your family your sacrifice, dad? Was my life your sacrifice?” He felt a hand on his arm, heard Sara say his name. He ignored it. Shook her off. “You ruin _my_ life, stick me on a ship to move to an entirely new galaxy, and then disregard and insult me and every attempt I make at fixing a _nonexistent_ relationship!”

Energy was building, making his skin tingle—full body trembling he couldn’t control. Sara put some distance between them fairly quickly.

“I guess mom, Sara, and I were just the little picture, yeah? Mom’s disease was the _big picture_ you had to make _sacrifices_ for! It didn’t matter what _we_ lost!” Scott moved, heard something crash into a wall. “But no, I don’t know _what_ sacrifice is! Never given anything up for the _greater fucking good_ in my life! But _I’m here_! I’m _here_ , and the only person whose acknowledged that, and made me feel good about it, has been _Reyes_!”

Warning and shock flashed in Alec’s eyes, even sorrow and pain that gave Scott a sick sense of pleasure, but Alec maintained distance as Scott moved. Erratic, biotic potential seemed to leak from every pore.

He wanted _out_.

SAM gave its warning, but the usual trick didn’t work. Nothing settled, nothing fell quiet.

“Scott, calm down. You misunderstood…” Alec spoke calmly, as if nothing were wrong and he was just having a little tantrum. Scott’s only indication that something may have been seriously wrong was when Alec cursed and called for Drack.

“I guess I’m just not _smart_ enough—”

And then he was hit by tank. Or rather, a krogan. Tackled to the ground at a full charge, screaming until Lexi appeared, clad in a robe, with a nasty looking needle.

He should have stayed in bed with Reyes. He dreamed he did.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An Alec POV! I think I only have one or two more of these planned. Mmmaybe just one.... He's not all that easy to write, but this chapter went through at least eight wildly different scenarios (one involving Reyes' POV, but that was even HARD) so I finally settled lmao

Alec had always considered himself adaptable. He hadn’t made N7 by following predetermined responses and a specific set of rules, he’d done it by being _adaptable_. And largely strategic. He’d never let a problem get out of hand. He’d never lost a fight—a _physical_ fight. There was _always_ a strategic model that could be followed, molded if necessary, when something happened.

But maybe that’s where he’d gone wrong with Scott.

A large part of him wanted to blame Reyes. While things certainly hadn’t been great with Scott before Reyes’ interference, they’d gone from bad to completely horrific within a month after their meeting.

Alec was mature enough to lay the blame where it belonged, however. Reyes was a problem, but he was not the _cause_. Alec had failed one too many times as a father, and where Sara could overlook it, Scott had ended up sedated and strapped to a cot in the med-bay because of it. _His_ fault. He’d put too much pressure on Scott, ignored the signs, the stress, the frustration. Ignored Lexi’s advice and warnings.

He thought he’d known best. Scott was out of control. Letting him run free didn’t work, locking him down didn’t work. Giving him a job _might_ have worked, if Reyes hadn’t been the one involved.

Scott was resistant. Delicate. Alec didn’t handle things gently. Sara had started a line of unpleasant and degrading questioning he hadn’t even thought to stop, mostly because a part of him had suspected it in the first place…

And Reyes was a merciless opportunist, preying upon Scott’s vulnerability and weakness for his own gain. Scott couldn’t even _see_ it.

But Alec had. He’d seen the cold calculation in Reyes’ eyes when they’d argued that morning in Tartarus. Saw the wheels turning as he decided how best to use the information they’d so foolishly given him. Alec knew Reyes' type, and they'd ended up on the wrong side of his gun each and every time.

So Alec sat miserable and defeated, _exhausted_ , at five o’clock in the morning while he waited for Lexi to tell him how to fix it. A way that would work, in theory, but in actuality would send Scott into a raging fit. _Again_.

Alec couldn’t fix what wanted to be broken.

When Sara joined him in the kitchen, her guilt was worn plainly on her face. Bags heavy under her eyes, creases around her mouth. Stress making her look twice her age. Alec didn’t know the words to help her, but Sara would allow fumbles and mistakes without starting a fight over it.

“Lexi’s… mad…” she mumbled as she slumped into the chair across from him, staring but unseeing. She hunched forward a moment later, head in her hands and voice ringing with misery. “I can’t believe I said that to him… I didn’t even—he would _never…_ And I _knew_ that—”

“It wasn’t you, Sara.” Alec managed the words without sounding too stiff. Wanting to console and comfort but not sure how to do so properly. His heart broke when Sara looked up at him, lashes damp and eyes teary.

“He didn’t want to come to Andromeda, dad. I didn’t even notice, and he… and its _Reyes_ he talks to. Not me. _Reyes_.” Her pain gave way just enough to make room for anger. “I want to meet this guy just to kick his ass.”

Maybe Alec had more important things to worry about just then… Like, Scott not wanting to come to Andromeda. News to him, and clearly news to Sara. He shouldn’t be debating the impact of Scott’s relationship with Reyes. But he was what had led to this situation in the first place.  _Understand the enemy_.

“He looked… rough…” To put it lightly. “How serious do you think he is, Sara? On a scale from one to ten.”

Sara pinched the bridge of her nose and cringed. “Eight. He’s smart enough not to think about it though.”

“Christ…”

Sara leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms over her chest, eyes locked on the ceiling. “Scott… he doesn’t like change… At all. And since mom died, it’s been nothing but change. Scott should be the most… constant thing in our lives right now, but he’s not. _He’s_ changing.”

Alec propped his elbows on the table and nodded, listening to Sara but not exactly sure how he could utilize the information. The entire notion of Andromeda was _change_. There would always _be_ change, at least until some civilization could form and a routine could be set up, and the kett threat could be erased. Which wasn’t likely to happen within Scott’s lifetime.

Alec couldn’t change the world for his son’s peace of mind.

“No one likes change, Sara.”

She snorted and moved to face him again, sober and intense. “Scott doesn’t _handle_ change. And Scott _doesn’t_ change. I’ve known him my entire life, dad. Scott hasn’t changed a bit. He just has more muscle and knows how to rip people apart at a molecular level.”

“That would be only one problem.”

They both started when Lexi spoke up behind them, still wearing a robe but with her datapad in hand. Just as exhausted, she sagged against the counter top, lips pressed tight together and struggling to keep sleepy eyes open.

“Scott’s working through change. He’s dealing with massive amounts of stress on top of perpetually present anxiety.” Lexi ticked things off her fingers, and threw a pointed glance at Sara. “He has dependency issues. He’s trying to navigate a hostile galaxy and, quite frankly, a hostile father at the same exact time.”

Alec felt rightly chastised when her glare locked onto him, cutting him down a bit further than he’d have liked. But certainly deserved.

“What was said tonight should have been said after _months_ of family sessions. Alongside the _required_ sessions you all seem determined to escape for reasons beyond my understanding.” Sara hadn’t been lying when she’d said Lexi was mad. Her hands shook and she clasped them together tightly, eyes blazing. “Although maybe you could have left out the unfavorable accusation you tossed in Scott’s face.”

Frustration and hopelessness griped Alec like a vice. “What should I have done, Lexi? He comes back at four in the morning looking like shit after spending the _entire night_ ignoring my messages and calls? I was _worried_ —”

“Worried with a bruised ego,” Lexi snapped. The fight left her suddenly in a rush of air. She ran a hand down her face and sagged against the counter. Hopeless in her own way. “Scott is not cut out for war, Alec.”

What could he say to that? Scott was a natural born fighter, he thrived in battle. He’d seen firsthand how quickly his son had taken to thinking on his feet, _strategically_  laying waste to compounds before Alec could even reload his own weapons. Scott reminded Alec so much of himself, despite how hard he tried to hide it.

If Lexi was suggesting _relieving_ Scott… Alec may not have known Scott well, but he knew him well enough to imagine the bloodbath that would result in.

Sara seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “Lexi, Scott can’t work in one of the outposts. And he definitely can’t work on the Nexus. He gets… itchy when he doesn’t fight.”

Lexi laughed at that. Sharp and bitter and completely lacking in any and all humor. “If we ship him off the Tempest, we’re exiling him. Plain and simple. But he’s not mentally fit for duty right now, and I don’t think he has been since Voeld.”

Alec curled his hands into fists, tried to ignore how much Scott felt like a _loss_. A complete and total loss. He couldn’t get Scott to listen, couldn’t get him to fall in line, but he would _not_ exile his own son or set him up to run off. That wasn’t an option.

“So…” Alec trailed off, turning his attention to Lexi when Sara started fidgeting. “What do I do?” Alec could do a lot of things, but he couldn’t end a war in a day.

Lexi ran a hand over her mouth, taking her time with her thoughts. “Short of reassigning Scott to the Nexus, which would be a _disaster_ , he needs a break. He needs you to be more understanding—”

“ _Understanding_?” Alec repeated, voice rising in his disbelief. “I’ve tried understanding, Lexi, it doesn’t work. I give an inch, he takes a mile. I can’t leave him alone because he’s self-destructive—”

“I’ll agree with you on that…” Lexi grumbled. “But he’s an adult, Alec, you can’t—”

“—even when he’s being supervised, he’s destructive. I’m his father, but I’m also his _boss_ , and he resents both of these things. Takes liberties because of them. I can’t win.”

“You’re looking at this like it’s a fight, Alec.”

“Isn’t it?” If Scott got too out of hand, too many ideas in his head… He’d jeopardize himself and the mission—things Alec could _not_ allow, as a father and as the Pathfinder.

Tann wouldn’t forgive another mistake.

Lexi sighed and took a seat at the table, slumping over folded hands. “It shouldn’t be… And I don’t know how to make it right. In such close quarters, under so much stress, you can take one step forward, but then someone says the wrong thing and you’re taking ten steps back… Something happens on a mission, and it’s a nightmare.”

Alec could think of one way, but it wasn’t a solution, not really. And Scott would hate it. Hate _him_. They were at least alike enough for Alec to be confident in a volatile reaction.

“Maybe some time off the ship would help…” Lexi whispered, voicing Alec’s thoughts but clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion.

Sara shot to her feet suddenly, nearly knocking the chair over in her rush. “Are you crazy? You can’t possibly think grounding Scott will make things better!”

The more Lexi thought about it, the more she seemed to be warming to the idea. It gave Alec a niggling feeling of hope—if a little… vacation… could do Scott good, get him to ‘reset,’ they could start over. Try again, all new.

Give Scott time to think about what Alec had said, what he’d done, without any outward influences. Without having to worry about Alec’s presence, his reactions. Without the added stress of politics and hostile environments.

“No… No, it could be good for him,” Lexi started, sitting up straighter and drumming her fingers against the table. She shot Sara a look that demanded silence, maybe even a warning that hinted at a previous conversation. “Help him with his dependency.”

Sara flopped back in her chair and blew out a breath, fast and hard. “Well, I have some good news and some bad news. Scott isn’t listening to me anymore. He’s started latching onto a big time smuggler in the port.”

Lexi’s head hit the table with a thud that sounded painful, but her groan was an expression of absolute frustration. “Tell me you’re lying, Sara.”

Sara offered a nasty smile without any real malice or triumph. “You saw the bruises.”

“We should consider a couple weeks off the ship… Maybe on Eos…” Lexi murmured, head rolling back and forth against the top of the table. Alec could sympathize.

Sara scowled and got up again, this time storming out of the kitchen, taking with her the last of Alec’s energy.

At least Sara could get over disagreeing with his decisions. If Scott could learn how to do the same, Alec would consider most of his problems solved.

“I’ll contact Bradley after we finish with the monoliths,” Alec said.

“Give Scott time to recover, Alec. If you ground him so soon after this event… It’ll make things worse.”

Lexi left him to consider her words. His gut told him sending Scott off for a few weeks was a mistake. But his gut couldn’t come up with a better solution. On the surface, at least, it seemed like a break would do them both good. Cool off, think, and start over fresh. Again.

It would have been so much easier with Ellen by his side. He had to wonder how many times she’d thought the same of him—left alone with the twins as they’d grown up. With Scott. He’d spent many a night listening to Ellen worry and plan. Unable to share her pain when Scott acted out, or her happiness when she managed to reel Scott in, but able to at least give her an ear.

Alec swallowed his guilt, the feeling of loss and sorrow that always came when he thought of Ellen.

He didn’t have Ellen. Scott was a fight he had to face alone.

* * *

 

Tackling the monoliths without Scott proved to be more difficult than Alec had anticipated. An impact felt as they struggled through activating terminals, fighting waves of remnant, and picked their way through the vault. Cora and Jaal were uneasy, tense and silent, all aware of what had happened that morning, and without the levity Scott provided to ease the tension.

A strange realization. To understand and feel Scott’s absence wasn’t something he’d ever anticipated. While Alec didn’t take him on every outing, Scott had been adamant about the monoliths. Enjoying the terminals and mazes, the life threatening purge at the end of the day.

He’d claimed it was symbolic. Some bullshit about realizing how _alive_ you were as you ran from a death storm you had no way of fighting. Purging the chaos of the day to make way for a positive tomorrow.

Alec contemplated it throughout fights, the maze-like remains of the vault, and on the drive back to the slums. He decided he didn't understand Scott's fondness for the vaults.

And he worried about Scott.

Jaal was the first to broach the sensitive topic. “Scott was… unpleasant… when he woke up.” Alec heard Cora hiss and slap at Jaal, who continued bluntly and ignored her attempts to quiet him. “He was not happy to be strapped down. Why?”

Alec’s fingers clenched around the wheel. Shamed and frustrated by Jaal’s brazen remarks. “I’d imagine waking up strapped to a cot isn’t a nice way to wake up, Jaal.”

A sound of mutual irritation escaped all three of them. Jaal pressed harder, “Why was he strapped down in the first place, Ryder?”

Alec offered a textbook answer, one Lexi had guiltily given as she’d placed the restraints around his wrists. “Scott is currently a danger to himself and others.”

Jaal paled, eyes wide with shock, but Alec didn’t give him the chance to continue pushing. He hit the brakes as soon as they reached the gates to slums, lurching to a stop and swinging out of the vehicle before Jaal could give voice to thoughts Alec, quite frankly, didn’t want to hear. He’d had enough guilt for one day, for a lifetime, and with Jaal’s struggle to understand, he was _embarrassed_.

Embarrassed to have a son who had to be restrained to a cot in the med-bay. To have lost all control of his biotics, and need to be charged by a krogan at full speed and strength, then drugged and strapped up.

In the chaos that followed, Alec had wondered if Scott knew how much biotic potential he actually had.

Alec assumed it was fitting that, in his need for solitude and quiet, he’d run into Reyes waiting for the elevator. His gut churned with distrust and anger, emotions he fought to keep down, determined not to let them show. To come through, even when Reyes looked up in mild surprise, the poster child for relaxation and nonchalance.

His gaze flicked over Alec’s shoulder, cataloged Cora and Jaal’s presence, then added salt to the wound, “I thought you had monoliths to activate today?”

He _knew_ , because Scott had told him. Probably the minute he’d seen the messages. And the little smirk on Reyes face gave away more than he likely thought. He’d talked Scott out of returning to the Tempest. Took pride in it.

_And look at where that put Scott…_

“A shame Scott’s not with you… He was looking forward to getting them done.” Reyes turned to his datapad, as if that would hide the cheeky smile. He continued, like he didn’t recognize Alec’s blatant desire to package him up and send him right to the kett— _in pieces_ , “But I guess that means Scott’s evening is free?”

“You’re an amateur, Reyes.” Alec ground the words out through clenched teeth, anger flaring hot inside him when Reyes only laughed. Unconcerned, unaware of the damage he’d caused. Which, while Alec understood was for the best, didn’t make it easier to handle.

To look at Reyes and know what he’d done with Scott, _to_ Scott. To suspect the game he was playing, but be unable to stop it.

The elevator doors squealed open, and Reyes watched with predator-like focus as Alec and his wary team stepped on.

“And yet I was smart enough to know you sent your son to collect a lead,” Reyes said, standing where he was and pausing. Waiting, Alec realized. Timing himself. “I almost didn’t give it to him—what were your words? ‘ _Not a price I’m willing to pay.’_ Doesn’t exactly inspire cooperation. But Scott was so convincing.” His voice was hard and as cold as his eyes, intent and maybe even a little angry. Alec didn’t really care to know _why_.

The elevator doors likely saved Reyes’ life. Closing before Alec could reach for his pistol, or lunge through to get to him, though both attempts likely would have been stopped by Cora, who’s hand landed strong on his shoulder.

“You have to admit he’s really good at getting under your skin… and smart enough not to get on an elevator with you…” Cora managed, trying to lighten the situation, but failing miserably. Alec could still appreciate the effort. “I mean, maybe he’s just a… rebellious phase for Scott?” She didn’t sound so sure of herself, but Alec clung to the possibility like a lifeline.

Jaal hummed doubtfully, trying to disregard the tension entirely. “Reyes likely shows Scott deeper aspects of his personality that he hides from us.”

Alec closed his eyes against hopeless frustration, but the fight was out of him. The anger. All devoted to Reyes in one exhausting flash of white hot rage. “Between us, Jaal, Reyes is a greedy, deceitful, son of a bitch.”

Jaal pressed his lips together and nodded in quiet understanding, leaving Alec to his own conflicts.

He couldn’t get Scott to Eos soon enough. The faster he separated Scott and Reyes, the sooner his problems would be solved.

 _Or_ , he thought, _I could just shoot the bastard._ A fanciful idea he would only dream about, but as each possibility became more fantastic than the last, Alec felt some of his stress give.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCK I'm so mad I missed an update day. Smutty chapters take me fucking AGES and my Monday was hellish (I finished my math course with a B though so other miracles did at least happen)- and I also didn't intend for this to be a smutty chapter, but I absolutely KNOW after one round no way can Reyes keep his hands off. Sorry I don't make the rules. Also in case no one noticed, this is pretty much a self-indulgent fic. It's gonna take me forever, probably be insanely long, filled with some smut with the purpose to trigger angst. That's my kink. Smut that causes angst. Or is angsty. mmmhm

Scott woke up three times over the course of two days. The first due to Jaal, who was quiet and calm and comforting in the face of a panic attack when Scott realized he’d been strapped to his cot. And then Lexi had triggered something that had released a flood of sedatives into his veins—easier to put the meltdown to sleep again than deal with it.

The second time, he’d woken up naturally with Sara half asleep and holding his hand. Her apologies came in a bumbling, sobbing, mess. Blue eyes wet with tears, _sorry sorry sorry_ , one after the other. _I didn’t mean it._ Of course she hadn’t. But she’d still said it. Stood by Alec when he’d gone down. And Scott was so _tired_.

Drack had woken him the third time. Told him he’d have liked to take him shooting, but doctor’s orders were that he _remain in bed_. By which she meant, lightly drugged and _strapped to a fucking cot_. Like he was dangerous. Like he’d hurt someone. Lexi had almost had a stroke when she'd heard Drack mention guns.

Drack’s apology had held more weight than Sara’s. He apologized for charging Scott like he had, though Scott didn’t really remember much of that, and then showed him some pictures of guns. Then kittens, by request.

Scott didn’t know what time it was when he woke up again after that. Only that the med-bay was dark, with a few blinking lights and the hum of machines to fill the silence. And then the clang of a vent falling open. Followed by the heavy thud of booted feet hitting the ground and a string of mumbled curses.

Scott saw the shape of a man and panicked. Unable to reach for a gun he didn’t have, but wouldn't be able to use anyway because he was _bound to a cot_ by restraints he _couldn’t break_. Completely and utterly defenseless. When he died, he was haunting Lexi. And it would _not_ be pleasant. It’d be poltergeist level shit.

An angry little sound escaped tightly clamped lips, and then the figure rushed him. Shushing and cooing like Scott was a baby on the verge of a scared cry, which… was moderately accurate.

Until Reyes was highlighted by the machines around him. _Then_ Scott was quiet, startled by how surreal Reyes’ presence was. How incredibly impossible it was that Reyes would be _in_ the Tempest. How Scott was absolutely hallucinating.

Reyes’ hands on his face seemed so real.

“Whatever Lexi’s giving me… she needs to keep giving me,” Scott mumbled, amazed by his own imagination.

Reyes’ laughter was soft and slightly exasperated. “I’m not a hallucination, Scott.”

Scott was immediately distrustful, suspicious. If he couldn’t entirely trust real life Reyes, how could he trust a Reyes his mind had thought up? “Sounds like something a hallucination would say.”

Reyes only rolled his eyes and straightened, hands falling away from Scott’s face to be immediately missed. Maybe he was right. If he was a hallucination, Scott didn’t think he’d program an imaginary Reyes to _stop_ touching him.

“Scott, are you… why are you… restrained?” A hand fell on Scott’s arm, thumb stroking the strap around his wrist. It would have been nice, maybe, if Scott wasn’t actually tied to a cot. And Reyes didn’t look a little judgmental—but it was dark in the med-bay, so Scott hoped he was just seeing things funny.

He managed to come off as relaxed as he said, “I am a danger to myself and others. That’s what Lexi told me. But not me, she said it to my dad when she thought I was sleeping.”

And what a blow that had been. To be mentally wired but without a body to respond, sluggish and stifled by sedatives, and able to hear _everything_ that had been said.

Reyes sneered and scoffed, then focused on Scott’s wrists with single-minded intent. “I think that’s a risk I’m willing to take. What happened?”

Scott sighed, heavy and long and largely exaggerated, while he rolled his newly freed wrists and avoided Reyes’ inquisitive gaze. There wasn’t much he had to lose, being caught in the worst possible situation, but shame flowed freely through him. He’d overreacted, blown up a situation that could have been handled calmly and maturely. Telling Reyes all about it didn’t seem like the best way to impress him.

Scott flailed a sore hand at Reyes. “Help me up then kidnap me.” Pleasure replaced some of the shame when Reyes offered a small smile and huffed a little laugh.

“Kidnapping you would involve some unwillingness on your part,” Reyes pointed out as he helped Scott to his feet, holding him up and rather close until he’d managed to find his feet and balance.

Scott gave Reyes his weight mostly because he _wanted_ to, though being held by Reyes had the added bonus of taking away the stress of standing. Reyes was warm and solid and steady, chasing away the discomfort and pain the last two days had involved.

“I can pretend. Struggle and scream when we get away from the ship, if that’ll get you off.” Scott pressed closer to Reyes, and relaxed further when he laughed. Still quiet and soft, aware of where they were while Scott threw caution to the wind. But it was incredibly elating, to be able to make Reyes laugh.

Reyes had made it onto the ship, after all. For _him_. He could worry about what Scott couldn’t.

But when he spoke, it was a blow Scott would have preferred not to receive. “I’m not taking you off the ship, Scott.”

Reyes went willingly when Scott pushed at his chest, needing the distance to process. Reyes had slipped onto the Tempest through _vents_ , but not to get Scott _out_. He couldn’t have done it just for Scott— _wouldn’t_ have. Scott couldn’t accept the possibility that Reyes would, at most, risk his life just to check on him. Simply because he hadn’t been running around the port for two days. Scott had been locked up longer.

Darker suspicions plagued him suddenly, leaving a bitter trail. Reyes could have _accidentally_ stumbled upon Scott, strapped up like a basket case in the med-bay, looking for _something else_.

Scott put a foot between them, trying to study Reyes’ shadowed features as closely as he could. “Why are you here?”

A crooked smile and Reyes leaned closer, only for Scott to sidestep and enforce the distance. “You don’t want to know _how_?”

 _Evasion_. Unease and hurt made Scott’s stomach roll—he couldn’t handle another hit so soon. “I know how to get on and off this ship unseen, _especially_ when Kallo isn’t awake. I want to know _why_ you’re here.”

Information. It had to be information.

But Reyes didn’t look guilty when Scott leveled a glare on him. He looked embarrassed, nose slightly crinkled and discomfort apparent in his posture. “I guess you wouldn’t believe me if I said I was worried,” he answered, reluctant to meet Scott’s gaze.

Scott realized he was _shy_ in a rush of sudden relief and amazement.

Reyes turned smoldering brown eyes on him, as if he sensed his little victory. Ready to dig into the weakness he’d recognized in Scott’s suspicion. “I was expecting you… After the monoliths.”

Scott cringed, full of guilt and regret. If he hadn’t completely lost it over a stupid fight, he’d have been able to meet with Reyes. He shouldn’t have left in the first place. Should have insisted he stayed.

“I’m—”

“No apologies.” Reyes tone was short and clipped as he closed the small distance, hands falling easily on Scott’s waist. Like they belonged there. _So_ easy. “I ran into Alec in the slums. I think the elevator kept him from killing me.”

Quiet laughter bubbled up and out. Scott could imagine. Wished he’d have been there. If he hadn’t picked that fight, he’d have been with Alec. He would have run into Reyes at the elevator.

Reyes was suddenly somber, however, setting Scott on edge. He was going to ask. And Scott would probably tell. So, he shook his head and stepped around Reyes, motioning quickly for him to follow. “I stole a storage room. Only fits one of the standard issue beds and a few boxes of clothes, but I don’t think you’ll mind the squeeze.”

Reyes snorted, agreement inherent, and followed quietly. Scott was immensely grateful that it was late, the ship was asleep and so were the people in it. If Reyes had pissed Alec off as badly as he suggested, he’d no doubt be shot on sight.

And if Scott were found out of the med-bay… He’d need to get back before anyone woke. And the idea was chilling. Made him feel sick. Hopeless. A little crazy.

Reality hit, hard, when they slipped into the small space and the door clicked shut behind Reyes. The same disgust and anger and fear that had hit before Lexi had come with a needle, though internalized. Directed at himself. It was one thing to get mad, to yell and accuse and fight, but quite another to get sedated and strapped to a bed because of it.

“My sister accused me of sleeping with you for the drug lead,” Scott blurted, harsh and without forethought. He heard Reyes’ breath catch, a soft curse, and then felt a hand on his back. “And my dad went with it. Then said I couldn’t sacrifice.”

“Scott…” Soft and concerned, riddled with sympathy, and Scott welcomed it with open arms. Not feeling chastised or pathetic in the face of Reyes’ concern. “That wasn’t… I didn’t— _wouldn’t_.”

“That wasn’t the problem… Not really,” Scott mumbled, allowing Reyes to turn him so that they were face to face. “It was… _everything_. It all came together and blew up. And I couldn’t—I mean—the research lab—I lost it—” When Reyes’ hands landed on either side of his neck, silently urging him to breathe and relax, Scott grimaced around the sudden threat of tears. “He made me feel so fucking _cheap_ and _stupid_. And Sara—”

“Scott, you are one of the most genuine, honest, people I’ve ever met,” Reyes interrupted, speaking low and with intent. Trying to soothe and reassure.

“You’re a smuggler. Your frame of reference isn’t that great.” Scott managed a little laugh, but it sounded panicked. Nervous.

“Last night, Keema lectured me for three hours because of you. Said I was _distracted_.” Reyes’ fingers pressed gently into the back of his neck, lightly working the tension out. He offered a smile, but his eyebrows drew close together, as if he were confused. “You’ve gotten under my skin, Ryder.”

Scott reached up to run a finger over the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the skin until Reyes rolling his eyes. “You always look like you’re confused or surprised when you say stuff like that…” Scott murmured the words, slightly worried, while Reyes’ hands dropped to wrap around his waist and pull him closer yet. Chest to chest, lips inches apart. _It’d be easy…_

“It wasn’t exactly part of my plan.”

“There was a plan?”

Reyes’ grin was a little bashful, a little nasty, and a little guilty. “There was and still is.”

He could have told Scott right then he’d been using him the entire time. Used him for some ulterior motive Scott couldn’t even think up, because Scott was _nothing_. Had nothing. But Scott wouldn’t have cared, because the way Reyes looked at him, spoke to him, made him feel like he was _something_.

It was nice to feel wanted. Desired. It was nicer to be made to feel that way by a man who was sober, who knew more than his name—who knew his name in the first place.

“Care to share?” Scott tugged at his shirt, as if that could get him even closer. Erase every little bit of space between them.

“I could tell you… or I could show you,” Reyes said, voice low and ringing with promise. An evasion Scott accepted too easily, but Reyes was rubbing circles into the back of his neck and Scott was easy.

“I don’t have anything.” And Scott couldn’t have hated that more. He’d been unprepared _once_ , and while it’d been a bit of a relief, he’d learned his lesson. _Thought_ he had learned that lesson.

He wanted to forget so badly, so if Reyes wouldn’t take him off the Tempest, there was a twin mattress they could work with at their feet. They could figure out how to get Reyes out later.

All of Scott’s focus went to his mouth when Reyes’ thumb ran across his bottom lip, then slipped between his teeth. “You have a mouth…”

A brilliant suggestion that pissed Scott off, just a bit, because he hadn’t thought of it first. He wasn’t smooth or sexy around Reyes, he was just desperate, a little thoughtless, waiting for Reyes to blurt out fantastic ideas.

“ _You_ —I do have a mouth,” Scott snapped and shoved Reyes back against the door, though Reyes caught the hem of his shirt and brought Scott with him on the way back. Smug and satisfied, completely pleased. “One day, I’m gonna be in charge.” It might have been a threat, Scott meant it as a threat, but Reyes only laughed and helped Scott pull his shirt up and off.

“I look forward to that day.”

Scott ran his hands down Reyes’ sides, smooth skin quivering under his touch. Mapping the body he couldn't wait to  _really_ see. “One day, you’ll be begging _me_.”

Reyes settled against the door, smile crooked and eyes heavy lidded. “You’re underestimating yourself. You could do that now.”

Scott ducked his head, pressing chaste kisses along Reyes’ neck but rolling his hips forward. There was something undeniably exciting about being in the Tempest, having Reyes in _his_ space, under _his_ hands and mouth. A total risk, of course—Lexi could get up at anytime to check on him in the med-bay and find him missing—but Reyes took the bad away. Replaced negative memory with positive.

“That’s where you’re wrong…” Scott started, speaking softly against Reyes’ skin as he slid down his body. Exploring as he pleased, biting and sucking and teasing what he could on the way down. “I _know_ I’m good at sucking dick. Which you would have known if you’d kept me longer than a night.”

Reyes made a soft sound of agreement, but his attention was on Scott’s progress, fingers combing through his hair. “Should have kept you…”

 _Coulda, woulda, shoulda…_ Would have been nice if he had. What’s done was done, however, and Scott could only make him regret.

Already half hard against his hands, Scott made quick work of Reyes’ pants. Excitement made his heart pound, made his hands unsteady. He liked the theoretical risk, the power it gave him and the power it took away from him. As he teased the crease between Reyes’ groin and leg, he wondered if Reyes would give him control or take it away—he wasn’t sure which he wanted more.

Scott was sure he wanted to watch Reyes fall apart, however, and he didn’t think anything could be better than the soft sound Reyes made when ran his tongue along the underside of his cock. Gentle, coaxing, until Reyes’ chest visibly heaved and the grip he had on Scott’s hair was painful.

“Scott, you have a mouth.” Reyes ground the words out between clenched teeth, head knocking back against the door and eyes shut tight. An amazing look.

“Want me to use it?” Scott asked as innocently as he could with a hand around the base of Reyes’ cock and his mouth pressed against the rigid skin, smiling when burning amber eyes locked onto him.

Reyes’ hips snapped forward as soon as he wrapped his lips around the head, teasing the slit with his tongue and sucking hard. He ran his hands from Reyes’ hips to his chest, digging his nails in as he pleased to leave behind angry red marks, body responding to Reyes in turn.

Scott loved the careful glide to the back of his throat and out, the taste, the weight of a cock on his tongue. How Reyes cringed and glared, how he so obviously wanted to take control, hands tight in Scott’s hair and shivering, using the door to keep himself up. A wonderful rush, Scott worked Reyes, kept one hand on his chest while he let the other roam. Feather light in places that made Reyes’ breath catch. He used every trick in the book to make Reyes _feel_ , to make him come undone.

Maybe it worked, and maybe Reyes was a little angry about that, because he pulled Scott’s head back until his cock sprang free of the confines of his mouth. Slick with spit and desire, absolutely gorgeous—and Scott wanted to see the entirety of Reyes in the light.

Reyes swiped a finger over his lips, eyes so dark they sent a thrill down Scott’s spine. “Flatten your tongue. Stretch your neck out.” Reyes voice was thick, intent clear, and Scott hurried to obey.

He was already wet, and Scott was pliant, ready and willing and able—perverse pride thrumming through him when Reyes slid down his throat with only a moments resistance. The instinctive _oh shit, breathing isn't happening_ that always followed. Scott’s jaw ached and his knees hurt, but it was worth it, beyond worth it, to watch Reyes.

When Reyes’ unraveled, praised Scott with a pleasure-wrecked voice how beautiful and sexy and _good_ he was, Scott almost believed him. As strange as it was, knowing he was on the verge of tears and drooling around the cock fucking his throat.

Reyes chased his orgasm with brutal intent, holding Scott still and hips stuttering in an unsteady rhythm—Scott didn’t look away, didn’t close his eyes. Fought to see every minute detail in Reyes’ expression to commit to memory. To know what he looked like wild and desperate.

Reyes choked out a startled sound and pulled Scott off abruptly, eyes shut tight and hand fast around his cock until Scott batted it away and wrapped his lips around the head, hot and hard and catching every drop of passion on his tongue. His own cock throbbed, sympathetic, and he would have smiled if he could have when Reyes stared at him—beyond aroused and incredibly surprised. Breathless and beautiful, a little groan escaping his chest.

“Ryder—” Reyes cut himself off as he curled his fingers in the collar of Scott’s shirt and pulled him to his feet, knees crackling their protest, and kissed him. Words a waste, completely useless. Sending fire through Scott’s veins when his tongue clashed against his and a hand slipped past the waistband of his pants.

He’d hardly wrapped his fingers around Scott’s dick before he was coming, hard enough to leave him gasping into Reyes’ mouth. Possibly even thanking him, but that could have easily been in his head. It was hard to tell, hard to care, when he’d been kissed within an inch of his life—Reyes hadn’t cared he’d tasted himself on Scott’s tongue.

Scott’s cock gave another little jolt at the thought, like it had more to give, and his balls ached. Legs shaking along with Reyes', trying not to fall.

If they fell backwards they’d hit the bed. Or close enough.

Reyes regained enough control to guide them safely down to the floor at least, which left it up to Scott to find the mattress. Nothing complicated in theory, but when he was trying to cling to Reyes and kiss him at the same time it may as well have been rocket science.

They fumbled out of clothes, soiled or already on their way off, and Reyes’ voice shook slightly when he asked, “When does the ship wake up?”

“Kallo and dad are up at five…” Scott wanted to sleep. A real, honest, sleep dictated by nature, not by drugs. He wanted Reyes with him when he did.

“I have three hours…”

“Enough for a nap…”

Reyes hummed his agreement and shifted, wriggling and tossing until they both fit on the twin mattress as best as they could.

“I’m so dead in the morning…”

He thought he felt Reyes smile against the top of his head, and he definitely snickered. “You’ve survived worse, I’m sure.”

Scott did have a tendency to bounce back. Reyes left him feeling relaxed and at ease—he almost wished Reyes would be with him to face the crew, and Alec, later on. To give him the strength he decided he'd need.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shitty chapter because it was written in a day (it's technically still Friday because I haven't slept!!!) and I'm a littttleee bit writers blocked. Still going to update basically on schedule though! A story-related hump I need to get over, I think.

Scott would sell his soul for just one easy morning with Reyes. A morning where he woke up slowly and well rested, maybe even before Reyes so he could really look at him. Study without being self-conscious. He didn’t want to be told he had to leave at the crack of dawn.

He didn’t want to realize he was staring at Reyes in his own room. On the Tempest. The sound of chaos just on the other side of his door. He wanted to be somewhere  _safe_. Or at least safer than the Tempest.

Scott’s absence had been noticed—they had a very, very, short amount of time before they were caught. Scott found peace in this knowledge, like he was, for just a moment, in the eye of the storm. But the storm was moving on, and every second he spent in the eye was a second closer to the reality of the outside.

So he shook Reyes awake while trying not to blame him for the two murders about to take place. “You were supposed to wake up…” A soft accusation Scott wasn’t entirely sure he meant, but it served to get Reyes wide eyed and alarmed.

“What—”

“Too late now. Are you religious? Might be a good time to start praying.”

Reyes snorted, momentary panic melting away as he relaxed and threw an arm around Scott. Resigned to his fate. At least they were on the same page. “Should we get dressed or would that be pointless?”

“I don’t know… Do you want to be completely naked in front of my dad?” It was supposed to be a rhetorical, thought provoking question, but Reyes didn’t get a chance to understand how stupid that would be before he was actually naked in front of Alec. The decision made for him.

And for one insane second Scott thought he might not be in trouble. Alec looked too relieved, too worried, to be angry. Like he’d spent his morning concerned for Scott’s safety and just knowing he was okay and alive was enough. Maybe he wouldn’t notice Scott sprawled on top of Reyes.

The funny thing about expecting something, and coming to terms with it, was how the reality changed when one was confronted with that something. Scott thought he’d be okay, but then Alec noticed Reyes and Scott realized how stupid it had been to hope. If Alec had had a gun, he probably would have pulled it, but as it was he had a limited range of options. He settled with a scowl deeper than Scott had ever seen and said, “You have five minutes,” before closing the door with a finalizing click.

A _click_. Not a slam. And in a way, that was so much worse. So in control— _too_ in control.

Scott hated it. Alec had handled it too calmly. Like he did everything that was really bad, and it was so absolutely enraging. He  _loathed_ that about Alec.

“Shit… shit, shit, shit… _Shit_!” Scott scrambled off of Reyes, shook off the hand that tried to stop him, and dressed faster than he’d ever dressed before. Enough time to spare to stare at Reyes and get angry because he _wasn’t doing anything_. “Reyes, he said five minutes. We have four now.”

Reyes stretched like a cat, all smug satisfaction and pure relaxation, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “I say make him wait _six_.”

He was nuts. Absolutely fucking insane. Scott was sure his face said as much too. In fact, the idea of making Alec wait more than _three_ minutes was so absolutely sickening, and Reyes’ easy acceptance of this situation so completely _horrifying_ , Scott almost regretted sucking his dick. He’d probably blown a lot of really stupid men before, but he’d never known the men well enough to _know_ they'd had such a horrible drive for self-preservation.

“You’re lucky you’re so pretty, Reyes,” Scott said in a broken whisper. A truly hopeless man.

Reyes burst into surprised laughter, threw an arm over his eyes and practically lost it. Used up another minute laughing before he rolled to his feet and dressed slowly and carefully. “Scott, your shirt is inside out and backwards.” A knowing glance when Scott hissed and hurried to solve that, and he added, “You’re lucky you’re so pretty.”

Scott managed a glare but not much else, and they walked in complete silence to the research lab. A situation he thought he couldn’t fix when Reyes was so nonchalant, fearless in the face of something he should at least be wary of.

On Kadara, Alec could kill Reyes and get away with it. Scott didn’t think he _would,_ but he _could_. Scott couldn’t predict Alec now, however. He’d been caught by Ellen before, but Ellen was very much not Alec.

He felt a little better when Reyes’ hand fell on the small of his back. Steady and reassuring through the chaos of the research lab. Scott hadn’t known he’d done so much damage, and most of it had obviously been cleaned up, organized. He didn’t _remember_.

Reyes pulled him up short, blissfully unaware of Alec glaring down at them from the meeting room. Or intentionally ignoring him. “You know where to find me, Ryder. For anything.” His expression darkened and tone became sharper, as if the thought of what he were about to say were so personally insulting. "And you don't have to fuck me for anything either."

Scott wanted to say something. Express how grateful he was for the shallow offer of comfort, though Reyes looked so serious, so earnest… Sober and eyes bright.

He didn’t get a chance before Alec was snapping for Scott and dismissing Reyes with a growl. A merciful fate for the stowaway smuggler, Scott hoped Alec hadn’t used all his mercy on Reyes.

Scott was left with a gentle squeeze of his hand, and he committed the pressure to memory as he started the walk of shame up to his father. Uncertain and scared, though he’d never admit such to anyone—not even Sara.

 _Especially_ not Sara.

Alec was predictable in most situations. He huffed and snapped and snipped and made his disapproval clear in remarks designed to cut you down. Not good enough, _never_ good enough. But this was uncharted territory. Alec would be unpredictable; no telling how he’d respond to finding his son naked in bed with a man he clearly didn’t like and didn’t trust.

So Scott didn’t know what he was expecting, anything could have surprised him, but he was wildly unprepared to see hopeless desperation on Alec’s face.

“What… do I need to do to make you—” Alec cut himself off abruptly and ran a hand over his face, inhaling deeply and leaning against the meeting room railing. A picture of frustration. “What do I need to do to make _this_ right?”

Alec sounded plaintive, completely lost but trying and trying hard. But Scott didn’t think he was completely stupid—maybe a little oblivious, but he knew what Alec meant. “You mean, how do you make _me_ fall in line.” He’d hit a sore spot, the _right_ spot. Alec winced as if it had hurt. “I’m not Sara, dad. I’m not… I can’t…”

Alec looked exhausted when he shifted his gaze to Scott. “Are you telling me you can’t follow orders?”

“I _won’t_ follow orders related to my personal life. You tell me to fall back or cover you, I’ll listen. But you can’t control who I talk to. That's not your place as my Pathfinder or my dad—I am an adult.” Scott was rather proud of himself for drawing such a clear boundary, and for doing so calmly. He didn’t think Alec was receptive to it, however, because he just sighed and shook his head.

“Scott, you can’t honestly tell me Reyes doesn’t stand to gain a lot of information on the Initiative by allying himself with you. A lot of weaknesses he could discover. A lot of _material_ _—_ weapons, food, medicine.” Alec looked at Scott as if he were something worthy of pity. A child too shortsighted and innocent to see the evidence.

But Scott _didn’t_ see the evidence. Reyes had never gotten anything remotely considered classified from him. Never asked, never pushed. He didn’t understand how Alec was coming to such a conclusion.

“Reyes has done  _nothing_ to suggest he’d be interested in anything like that,” Scott said slowly, trying to exert some control. He could feel himself getting tense, anxious, and he didn’t want to end up in the med-bay again.

“And you think he won’t?”

Scott snapped, speaking louder than he meant to, “And why are you so certain he _will_?”

Alec was quiet for a few moments. Thoughtful, maybe a little guilty, but not for the reasons Scott thought he should have been. “When Reyes broke in here last night, what was your first suspicion?”

It wasn’t a fair question. Scott had been terrified at first, certain some thug from Kadara had broken in to kill him. But after that… The look on Alec’s face suggested he understood Scott’s—and Scott wasn’t willing to admit something Alec so clearly wanted to hear, wanted him to say.

“You thought he’d broken in for information, didn’t you?” Alec asked softly, gently. More kindly than Scott had thought him capable. “That’s called instinct, son.”

“He came for _me_ , dad. Came in with nothing on the Initiative, nothing on us, and left with nothing.” Scott realized he sounded like an indignant child, but he couldn’t help it. Pinned under pitying dark eyes.

Alec pushed, maintained his certainty in the face of Scott’s. “How do you know when you don’t know how long he was on the ship before stumbling over you?”

“I think if he’d hit any sensitive information or messed with the systems, SAM would have alerted you,” Scott argued through clenched teeth.

A faulty argument, considering SAM would have alerted Alec the minute Reyes had boarded the Tempest. Alec happily tore that apart.

“His signature was cloaked, Scott. SAM didn’t know he was on the Tempest until I saw him.”

There was very little Scott could say to that. He _didn’t_ know how long Reyes had been on the Tempest, didn’t know why he’d decided to sneak on in the first place. And he wasn’t completely confident enough to say it was because of him, despite Reyes’ assurances. Scott had been locked on the Tempest before, very recently, and he doubted Reyes was the type to become so clingy after sex he’d come looking after forty-eight hours because he was _worried_.

That was Scott’s job.

But maybe he had. He seemed… Something seemed different. But that wasn't a valid point to make.

So Scott’s only argument was, “You’re wrong.”

“I’m not,” Alec started, expression still unbearably soft and sympathetic. Scott wanted him to get _angry_. Insult him and yell and ground him. “And I don’t want you to find that out the hard way, Scott.”

Scott accepted the defiance surging through him with open arms. “Well, you are wrong, and I’m not going to stop seeing Reyes just because you said so. He’s not business anymore, and he’s not a mission. You don’t have a say.”

Alec nodded slowly, lips pressed tight together, and stared down at his hands. Already resigned to Scott’s response, knowing it had been coming. Scott hated that he couldn’t read Alec as well.

“I may not know you well, Scott, but I knew you’d say that,” Alec managed with some humor. But the smile the followed was small and a bit forced, sad. “Funny how you don’t see the part Reyes is playing in this. The wedge between us, I mean.”

Scott glared at Alec, angered by the suggestion. “You don’t think that couldn’t at all be related to you?”

“But Lexi and I were talking”—Alec spoke a little louder, right over Scott as if he hadn’t said a thing at all—“We think… She’s… She’s suggested that you currently aren’t mentally fit for duty.”

It was like being punched in the gut with brass knuckles then drowned in a bucket of ice water. From _Voeld_. Scott hadn’t thought Alec could hit much harder after basically calling him a whore, but he’d been so horribly wrong. His world tilted on its axis then turned to dust. Completely and utterly annihilated.

How he managed his words without his voice shaking and cracking, managed to remain steady and calm, was a force beyond himself. “If you relieve me, you’ll never see me again.” Scott didn’t know what he’d do, where he’d go, but he knew without a doubt those were the truest words he’d ever spoken to date.

And Alec was quick to deny them, wide eyed and shocked. “No! I’m not relieving you, that’s not what’s happening at all.” He tried for humor but failed miserably. “The Nexus would fall to pieces with you on it.”

“That’s not where I’d go.”

Alec ignored the subtle threat. “Lexi and I just… we think a few weeks off the Tempest, maybe on Eos, would do you some good—”

“No!”

“—just some time to cool off, clear your head… Relax.”

“I am relaxed! I’m fucking _fine_!” Scott burst, angry and terrified— _so_ terrified of being off the Tempest. Away from Sara, from his friends. On the other side of the fucking system.  _Alone_.

Alec’s mild despair gave way to some irritation and he jabbed an unforgiving finger at the lab before. “ _That_ is not what _fine_ looks like, Scott! You were sedated _several times_ over the course of ten hours and have been _strapped to a cot_ for two days!”

Shame once again reared its ugly head. He’d never live that down, Alec would hold it over him forever.

He was being _officially_ grounded. He’d have _nervous breakdown followed by_ _shore leave_ on his record.

“You can’t—”

“Just a few weeks, Scott. Just three, maybe. And after this morning… I think you’d better get ready as soon as possible.” Alec’s words were final, despondent, and he left Scott to go to his room and do just that.

 _Get ready_. Pack his fucking bags. And there was nowhere to run, if he wanted to. He couldn’t just leave. Couldn’t disappear. Not with a SAM implant all tangled up in his spine. And the desire to _run_ was so strong, twisting in his belly and making his hands shake, breath uneven and labored.

Scott was struggling to successfully shove clothes from a box to a duffel when Peebee and Jaal squeezed into the little room with him. Jaal took the bag gently from his hands while Peebee pulled him down to the mattress, her anger restrained but just barely.

“It’s a mess,” she said, and Jaal grunted his agreement. “Maybe if you’re _really_ good, he’ll let you come back for a week.”

A dream, but the exact opposite of Scott’s mind numbing fear. “I feel like he says a few weeks but means forever.” Paranoid. Irrational, maybe, if Peebee’s look of exasperated shock was anything to go by.

“We’d all die without you around to piss the Archon off and distract the enemy,” Peebee declared.

Jaal nodded and carefully folded one of Scott’s shirts, placing it gingerly in the duffel. “I thought it was rather amusing when you told him his time would be more efficiently spent… having relations with you than scanning the ship.”

Scott managed a laugh and corrected him, “I believe I said _fucking_ , Jaal.” His panic eased slightly when Jaal scowled, clearly displeased.

“Would you really?” Peebee asked, concern and intrigue intense in her voice and on her face.

“I mean, no. But I’ve technically gotten laid twice within forty-eight hours and it seems like a pretty regular deal, so ask me again when I’m desperate.” It felt good to tease, and it felt good to drop hints Peebee jumped on with ferocity.

She rambled.

“ _Oh_ , maker. Is he good? You know, I could have been the first to tell you. I saw him come out of his little room all high and mighty and business-y with a datapad in his hand and thought to myself— _listen_ , I thought, that is a man who knows how to fuck my Scottie-boy, now I just need to get them together. Fuck Alec, you know? Maybe don’t get serious with the guy, he might be right when he talks about that, but—”

Jaal interrupted with casual ease, but the look he shot Peebee was fond and affectionate, and made Scott ache. “Alec says he is a greedy, deceitful, son of a bitch. I think he shows you more than what we see.”

Scott gave Jaal a nasty little grin. “Probably not, but that’s how I like my men.”

Jaal made a hopeless little sound of confusion while Peebee slapped at his arm and surged to her feet. “Another thing I get to explain later, thanks. And, Scott, don’t hesitate to stay in touch while you’re on vacation.”

Scott nodded, mood slightly soured but certainly better than it had been, and Jaal set his duffel bag down. Tightly packed and expertly folded, no doubt, and the look he gave Scott was both reassuring and touching.

Grounded or not, he was finding a way off of Eos the minute he landed. He’d had an emotional episode that was over and done with, gotten all the overwhelming emotion off of his chest—it’d been healthy, in a way—and now he was _fine_.

He’d get off Eos and show Alec exactly how great he was.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmmmmm I'm back! I took a week off for spring break and before I knew it it was... summer (I failed Chemistry! But I have a job exercising and helping break racehorses so it's not all completely terrible) And then when I wanted to write—and believe me I wanted to write this SO BAD—I could not for the life of me get this chapter out. It's been horrible. Awful. It still is. Words cannot express how much I loathe this chapter.
> 
> I tackled it from a thousand different angles, situations, and points of view, and ended up splitting the chapter (I read somewhere once pov changes aren't that great so now I Hate doing them and try to avoid them as much as possible... I only wanted to do 2 Alec chapters and 1 Reyes chapter. That was it. It's all FUCKED now)
> 
> I almost just threw the version of this chapter from the original draft, but I think I hate that one even more (and it doesn't flow with the newer chapters). 
> 
> Long story short, I'm so sorry it took me months to get this out, and now that I have it's one of my most hated chapters xD Number 1 in the Top 10.... And I've written A LOT of shit. Hopefully I've gotten over the hump and it was just this chapter that wanted me dead.

Scott had forgotten how persistent Sara could be. How persuasive and smart and right she was—always right. Still as logical and all knowing as he’d thought she was at eight years old, when she had so wisely explained to him that jumping off the top of the jungle gym may seem cool, and it might even be fun, it would still hurt when he landed. Scott had thought she was the smartest person he’d ever met. _Smarter than mom_.

(He’d thought this at eight, of course. After he’d jumped off the jungle gym and broken his wrist, proving her right. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.)

Sara even used the jungle gym as a metaphor for Reyes. _Smart_.

Scott had laughed, though, when she mentioned the broken wrist. He’d told her he highly doubted he’d break a wrist having sex. Maybe a sprained wrist. Definitely a pulled muscle or two. But he didn’t think he’d _break_ anything.

He suspected she’d meant a broken heart.

A mistake to point out on an eight hour shuttle ride from the Tempest to Eos. She had eight hours to lecture and Scott was pretty sure she intended on using every second of it.

“Are you sure you’re not just messing around with Reyes to piss dad off? And are you sure Reyes isn’t using _you_ to piss dad off? No offense—”

“Offense will be taken—”

“—but Reyes definitely as a lot to gain by winning you over. A lot of _leverage_ he can use.”

Scott didn’t think he was as smart as Sara, but he was certain he wasn’t stupid. “If Reyes were _boring_ I’d be messing around with him to piss dad off. But Reyes _isn’t_ boring, so pissing dad off is a pleasant bonus. And from what I can tell, Reyes’ occupation doesn’t seem to require a deep knowledge of the Initiative’s darkest secrets.” Scott was sure Reyes already had his own connections on the Nexus. Ways to get _things_ off of the Nexus, not information.

And if Reyes wanted him as a Nexus connection, he was absolutely barking up the wrong tree. Scott had very little access to anything that wasn't hack-able from Alec's terminal.

He didn’t give Sara a glance but he saw her reflection from his window. A sneer and a trademark Ryder eye roll before she said, “Do you even know what he smuggles? I think the first sure bet is _information_ , Scott. Did you forget how you met?”

She probably meant in Kralla’s, but they hadn’t really met in Kralla’s. “I should have, given how wasted I was…” Scott muttered. A sudden flare of frustration had him turning to face Sara fully, however, nearly pulling her attention away from navigation. “What’s your problem with him anyway? You’ve never met Reyes.”

“Dad said—”

“Fuck what dad said! I’m sick of hearing what dad said! Since when have you let others decide for you?” Scott ground his teeth in the responding silence before pressing, “You’re seeing a smuggler, too. Kind of.”

Sara’s counter to that seemed rather desperate—and slightly alarming. “Vetra’s Initiative. It’s different.”

Scott realized they’d never had _this_ discussion. About Exiles, about the Initiative. They’d never really talked about what had happened before their arrival and where they stood on the matter. Scott had assumed, naturally, that they were like-minded. She seemed to hate Nexus leadership as much as he did.

“Sara…” He trailed off for a moment, gathering his thoughts. She thought an Initiative smuggler was different from an Exile smuggler—though Scott was fairly certain Vetra knew _many_ people on Kadara. She probably shared some connections with Reyes.

Scott realized he was scared to ask. Terrified, really, that if he did, she would sound exactly like Alec. She even looked like him, in that moment. All scowls and creases, deep in a very black and white thought process. He'd never really seen her so... Alec-like.

And he worried.

So Scott pretended she hadn’t suggested what he thought she had. Because acknowledging that they shared different opinions, different views, meant he would be standing entirely alone among his friends and family. What was left of it.

“I’m just worried about you, Scott. You never fall for good guys. And you fall in love really badly,” Sara said with a slight wrinkle in her nose. Scrunched up, maybe a little apology in the look she threw him half a second later.

“I take offense to… everything about that. The last bit, anyway. And I am not _in love_ with Reyes, or falling in love with him,” Scott argued. Steadfast and certain in that alone, he thought. Enjoying Reyes’ company and finding him attractive, wanting to spend time with him, didn’t mean he was looking for something exclusive and steady and perfect. Scott had decided he was through with steady commitments, because Sara was _right_.

A broken picker and a bad habit. He had the worst taste in men and managed it poorly—but he owned it. To assume he was _blind_ to Reyes was a mistake on Sara’s part. On everyone’s part.

Scott just didn’t care, too busy working on not being invested. If Reyes was less than morally perfect, that wasn't Scott's business. Reyes could flatter him, make him feel better, and he _could_ remain indifferent, if he ever needed to.

At the moment, he didn’t have to. Didn’t want to.

Scott could tell Sara didn’t believe him. Mostly because she looked right at him and flatly accused him of lying. “You said you were over commitment after Andy. And then John came along. And then Terry. And then that nasty piece of work with the twenty times broken nose—what was his name?”

So Scott snapped, “Just meet him Sara. _Without_ dad,” before disengaging from the topic entirely. He'd spend the last hours of the ride planning ways to contact Reyes. Not because he _wanted_ to, definitely not, but because he _needed_ to—in order to get off of Eos. “And that was Clark… Andy was still the worst.”

“Fuck Andy…” Sara mumbled.

Scott was relieved they could still agree on at least one thing.

* * *

 

Keema’s anger was justifiable. Reyes had known the fallout, of a kind, was coming for a long time. The minute he’d met Scott and Alec, actually, he’d seen their carefully crafted plan take a _very_ hard left turn.

So Reyes had been ready when she stormed into Tartarus, already armed with a new plan he’d decided not to tell her about until she was as angry and desperate as she currently was. It wasn’t his best plan, and it certainly wasn’t the greatest plan, it was really more of a gamble, but it was their only option. And the only way to get Keema's cooperation was to get her very angry and very desperate.

Ultimately, it had been a conflict of very little intrigue and drama.

Sara Ryder was another beast entirely.

She was watching him, blatantly livid. Frustrated. Reyes hadn’t known who she was immediately, of course, only that a woman with strikingly familiar blue eyes probably wanted to see his blood smeared across the walls of the bar. Nothing new.

But while aware of her glare burning a whole in the back of his head, his meeting suffered. His negotiation suffered. While he’d made a nice sum, it wasn’t _as_ nice as it should have been.

So he let the girl glare, lounged back in his chair long after his client had left, and waited her out.

She had the patience of a Ryder—and that was mostly what gave away the family resemblance. Besides overall features. The demeanor of Alec, the impulsive passion of Scott.

Even slightly red faced in anger, she was cute. Reyes suspected they got it from their mother. Sara’s faced screwed up and wrinkled eased the sting of a poor meeting, so he offered his second best smile.

“You waited longer than Scott—”

She blew over him so quickly it was _almost_ a surprise. “Scott’s a dumbass and I want to know what you’re doing with him.”

 _Now this is familiar…_ “I highly doubt you really want to know what I’m doing with your brother.” Physically, at least. She seemed to want an upfront, “ _I’m seeing how tightly wrapped around my finger I can get Scott. I’m pulling every emotional string he has and memorizing the reactions I get.”_ Or maybe more extremely, and falsely, “ _I’m fucking with your brother’s head for nefarious, evil, purposes._ ” It was probably all she would hear anyway.

Reyes wondered for a moment if she saw all of that on his face—but she couldn’t. The blue eyes, when cold and hard and unforgiving, were simply nerve wracking. She wore her suspicion on her sleeve, and made no attempts at hiding her perceptiveness, as opposed to Scott.

“Yeah, right, I _totally_ believe you’re hanging around Scott and feeding his ego just because you like him,” Sara said on a sneer and an eye roll that had Reyes wondering when he’d next see Scott.

It’d been a week. And while that certainly wasn’t _unusual_ , given the spacing of their previous meetings, Reyes had found himself expecting… more frequent visits. Irrationally, probably. Like a love struck teenager.

Which he wasn’t.

Reyes managed a laugh and turned back to his drink, now warm in his hands. He nearly winced as he swallowed. “I am. Why is that so hard for everyone to believe? Scott is _not_ unlikable. It’d be like hating a puppy,” he snorted.

“ _I_ know that. But _you_ have something to gain by playing Scott—I want to know what. And I want it to stop.”

She was threatening. An interesting feeling Reyes took a moment to explore, considering Scott had briefly explained his sister’s current weakness, but the tinge to her voice… There was more to be taken seriously in Sara than her father. Maybe because she cared more for Scott, or felt more protective—responsible for his safety and well-being. It made teasing her risky.

Reyes met her glare, unconcerned and level, and told her what he’d told Alec weeks prior, “You’re vastly overestimating my level of ambition, Sara. I’m a smuggler, not an information broker. Exiles have enough moles in the Initiative, and I have more interest in cargo routes than secrets. Approaching me like this, and accusing me of what you have, is more insulting to Scott than it is me, to be honest.”

Sara’s eyes narrowed and her lips pressed thin, hands curling into fists Reyes suspected she wanted to plant in his face. He wondered what held her back. “Because you’re just _oozing_ honesty.” She spoke over his omni-tool going off—something he kept low at his side to avoid the suspicious, curious, look she threw at it.

Reyes smiled and stood, sensing a fast retreat was in order and taking advantage of the call. “I’m a fluent and unrepentant liar, Sara. Something I’m very certain Scott knows.” When she opened her mouth to snap back, he stepped around her and added, “And, as far as I know, Scott is an adult who can make informed decisions for himself. From what he’s told me of you, I thought you were as well. But it seems you let your father color your decisions. You're both beating the subject to death with the same words.”

He supposed he left Sara reeling. Probably too furious by the jab to really come after him, but he hoped, deep down, he’d gotten her _thinking_. If not for his own sake—there was certainly an advantage to having _both_ of Alec’s kids in his corner—for Scott’s.

Which was an unpleasant thing to realize before accepting the call request to hear _Scott_ on the other side.

He rambled quite happily.

“Reyes! How are you? How’s the business? Smuggling going well? You’ve never told me exactly what you’ve smuggled, but have you ever smuggled any people? Want to? It’d broaden that resume right up.”

“Scott? What are you… Where have you been?” Reyes kept his voice down, and kept an eye out for the other Ryder, as he weaved through the crowded port to one of the quieter docking rooms.

Scott’s voice rang with pleasure, and no small amount of desperation, as he answered, “I’m on Eos. It’s supposed to be a _calming vacation_ , but really it’s a form of slow torture. Quick question: how many scientists does it take to kill a single kaerkyn? You noticed I was gone?”

Reyes bit back a smile, for himself and possibly out of habit. “That’s two questions, Ryder.”

“Answer the most important.”

“Six scientists.” An immediate response Reyes knew would knock Scott down a little. He couldn’t resist the snicker.

“What—oh. Well, close, it takes seven. And seven pistol clips. Reyes, it was _pathetic_. And I can’t show them how it’s done because I was dropped here without weapons. And dad told Bradley I wasn’t _allowed_ to have weapons.” After a moments pause, Scott grumbled, “Like I’d go off picking fights with bugs and adhi… or the entire outpost… Look, Reyes, I’m going _crazy_ —”

“Only now?” Hard to resist, though Reyes would have liked to have seen Scott’s face.

“Shut up. I need off the planet, Reyes. I tried to call the minute my boots hit the sand, but you have so many dead lines—I had to go through five different people just to get a Resistance contact, who had to then redirect me until I got to Akksul—and, Reyes, that was _not_ fun.”

Reyes could imagine. But he found himself warmed slightly by the effort Scott had gone through to contact him.

And that he’d been the first Scott had thought to go to.

“And then, you know, I was thinking about how you, the best smuggler in the galaxy, could get me off the planet, and—you probably think this is really stupid… But you said you would help me with anything!”

“How could I get you off of Eos? An Initiative planet, in Initiative space. Me. An Exile,” Reyes pressed, more to make Scott squirm than in actual curiosity. He could get Scott off of Eos. But it wouldn’t be cheap.

Scott hummed, a little embarrassed and a little sly. “Well, first, I was thinking kidnapping, but the exact specifics of that were kind of conditional, in that it was pretty late and I was—well, never mind what I was.”

Reyes could imagine. He _didn’t_ because he did have some sense of self-preservation, but it wouldn’t take much to imagine.

Unfortunately, what came out of his mouth was as far from self-preservation as it got. “No, do tell. You’ve got me curious, Ryder.”

Maybe it was Scott’s desperation to get off the planet, or maybe he’d found confidence through what intimacy they’d already shared, but his voice dropped nearly an entire octave. Low and smooth as silk, he practically purred. “You sneak into Prodromos in the middle of the night, snatch me right out of bed, and have me hidden away all to yourself for as long as it takes my absence to be noted and for me to be found.”

Reyes managed to sound steadier than he felt only due to the pure longing he detected in Scott’s voice, despite how hard Scott was likely trying to keep that hidden. He still had the upper hand, though Scott had nearly shifted the balance for a moment. “So, realistically speaking that would take maybe a day, which means you’re offering me a day—mostly spent traveling back to the port in a shuttle—in exchange for the very expensive procurement of a long distance shuttle and my time—all spent in Initiative space, on an Initiative outpost.”

“Well… it could be a day, or it could be a week… I thought you were a gambling man, Reyes,” Scott said, a slight challenge in his tone. And a little anxiety, like he expected Reyes to deny him transportation and help.

He didn’t need to issue a challenge—Reyes was already making plans. It was hard to deny time spent with Scott, potentially without the added stress of Scott’s Initiative responsibilities… Reyes tried to ignore what that excitement meant.

He had a plan.

“I’ll be at Promise in twelve hours, Ryder. It won’t be easy getting a shuttle on short notice, and that’s as close as I’ll get to an active outpost.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, nothing but static filling the line, before all of Scott’s breath left him in a relieved rush. “Am I not worth the risk?”

Reyes smirked down at his feet and all but murmured into the omni-tool, “You’re very much worth the risk, Scott. But it’s not a risk I need to take when we both know you’ll be at Promise in ten hours _just in case_ I get there early.” The suggestion that he _would_ get there early was something Scott would take as something certain, whether it was true or not.

Scott made a strangled little sound before rushing a “ _thank you_ ” and letting Reyes end the line.

Reyes secured a shuttle quickly, and could have made the trip in eight hours. Found himself wanting to make the trip in eight hours.

But he’d make Scott wait twelve. Let him pace and work himself up for two hours. The look on his face would make Reyes’ own wait more than worth it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On time update! I'm getting back into it. Totally winging it. The first version of this chapter was about 100x more smutty than this one ended up being but I recycled enough of it for the next chapter.... I figure they've got 600 years of technical celibacy to make up for l m a o
> 
> (Also not as diligently edited, I have a cookout to get to x3)

Nothing could have stopped Scott from jumping Reyes the second the older man’s boots hit the ground. Channeling his inner Peebee, so to speak, but Reyes kept his balance much better than Scott had. The arms around him were only to keep him steady, of course.

Scott was impressed Reyes stayed standing.

“You’re late,” were the first words out of Scott’s mouth. Muffled into Reyes’ neck and the arms he’d gotten around it.

“I did tell you twelve hours,” Reyes snickered. He seemed a bit too pleased with himself. Like he’d won something.

He wasn’t discouraging the sudden embrace, so Scott kept it up. As long as he could keep his legs around Reyes’ waist. Or until he was no longer welcome and dropped.

“You said ten.”

“I said _just in case_.”

“Which means ten.”

“It means _just in case_.”

Scott only grumbled unhappily, unwilling to verbally accept his defeat. And, quite simply, he was happy Reyes had come _at all_. He knew Reyes was busy, likely a highly sought after smuggler in his own right on top of his duties to the Resistance. And still, _still_ , he’d come to save him.

But maybe that was too dramatic. He hadn’t exactly been in any danger.

“Between you and me,” Reyes started, the whisper soft and pleasant so close to Scott’s ear, “I could have made it in eight.”

Moment over. Ruined. Just like that. Scott let his feet fall to the ground and arms drop, stepped back and even managed a scowl, though Reyes’ hands only slid lightly down to his waist. He disregarded how nice that was. “Then why did you make me wait _twelve hours_.”

Reyes’ smile was infuriatingly brilliant, making it impossible to even feign anger. “Because it bothered you.”

“I bet you were the type to pull a girl’s pigtails in kindergarten,” Scott said, flat and dry, as he slipped past Reyes and pulled himself into the shuttle.

He heard Reyes chuckle behind him. “And I stuck gum in boys’ hair,” he teased before following after and slipping into the pilot’s seat.

Scott was more than relieved when the engine kicked in and they set off. He’d missed the hum of a ship, and while the shuttle wasn’t anywhere near the same, the feel of space around them—especially when they left the planet’s atmosphere—was.

He relaxed for the first time in a week. Or maybe a month. Maybe for the first time since they’d hit the Scourge. Without Alec at his back Scott felt free in a way he hadn’t felt since he’d been a kid.

He didn’t want to waste a minute of it. Whether he had a week, or a day, or a few hours, Scott wanted to make the most of his stolen freedom.

“You know,” Reyes started suddenly, relaxing further as he settled into the seat. “I met your sister just before you called.”

Scott imagined the many different ways that meeting had gone before deciding it couldn’t have gone more than one way in the first place. Sara had likely gone for the jugular, but she’d very obviously had the humanity to hold back. Reyes was sitting content and alive right next to him.

“Has she always been so… like Alec?”

Scott cringed as the picture came together, crystal clear. “Not at all… She woke up from the coma and started kissing dad’s ass the next day.” He’d thought early on it was only her way of trying, that it wouldn’t last long. Sara had always been the more responsible twin, but she’d never been a stick in the mud.

She should have struggled with Alec just as much as he was.

But she wasn’t, and Scott couldn't tell if he was jealous of her or resented her for it.

“I think she scared me more than Alec ever has… Alec doesn’t scare me at all.”

Scott let that sink in and scoffed. The man had never heard of healthy fear. _Good_ fear, or whatever Jaal had called it. “Dad can switch between multiple combat profiles in seconds and doesn’t have to answer to anyone if you were to turn up with one of his bullets in your brain. He scares _me_. And I hate it.”

The first time he’d ever admitted it out loud, and it hadn’t even been intentional. He felt an ashamed flush heat his face, but Reyes didn’t comment, only acknowledged it with a dip of his head. Reyes owed him nothing, had only known him just shy of two months, and was fending his hostile family members off with a _twig_.

He still planned on taking advantage of that kindness. Even if Reyes had an ulterior motive, Scott could pretend for a couple days.

“Reyes, I hope you know I’m staying with you until my dad drags me back to the Tempest by my hair,” Scott said. Tried to belie his seriousness and disregard the previous subject with a smile, but it didn’t seem necessary.

Reyes turned from navigation to look him right in the eye and said, “Whether you end up liking it or not, Ryder, that was the deal. And I _will_ collect. This shuttle wasn’t cheap, and neither am I.”

* * *

 

They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, and Scott wasn’t sure which one of them was more surprised by the constant contact. Small touches through the port, even as they kept a sharp eye out for anyone from the Tempest, until they reached Reyes’ apartment in the slums. Scott was going to ask why he had two apartments, and how he avoided Sloane’s fees (he _knew_ Reyes wasn’t paying those fees), but the words didn’t make it to his mouth before Reyes did.

Scott did, however, maintain enough sense to stop Reyes before he got his hands on his clothes and his tongue past his lips. Placing his palm flat on Reyes’ chest, he pushed, turned his head to the side, and expressed his protest with an apologetic hiss. He _wanted_ Reyes’ hands on him, driving him mad, but as long as Alec remained unaware of where he was, they had _plenty_ of time.

And Scott wanted to deliver.

“Okay, here’s how it’s going to go,” Scott began, struggling to put a plan together, one that would keep Reyes largely at bay. “You have to keep your hands to yourself. No touching. No teasing.”

A sharp bark of laughter and Reyes asked, “Can I at least kiss you? I really only have an hour before a meeting.”

Scott felt like it was a trap. It was _definitely_ a trap. His suspicion likely showed on his face, because Reyes held his hands up in a gesture of surrender before clasping them behind his back.

“No hands.”

He had to be going about this wrong, but he _really_ liked the offer.

“Keep your hands to yourself. Ten—no, eight seconds.”

Scott stopped counting after twenty. Didn’t even mind when a hand slid from the back of his neck into his hair, fingers carding through the short strands. The other ran down his side, tracing the space between his ribs until he was squirming and gasping into Reyes’ mouth.

He should have let Reyes pull away, it would have given him a chance to start over, but instead he wrapped his arms tightly around Reyes’ neck and pressed closer. Muffled words against his mouth, “No teasing.”

“You said eight seconds.”

“You have a hand on my ass and your sense of time is horrible, Reyes. Forgive and forget.”

Reyes took that with a cheerful nod before grabbing Scott by the collar of his shirt and guiding him to a poorly sprung bed. One that squeaked its protest at the slightest movement, though Scott stopped caring as soon as Reyes was on him, tugging impatiently at clothes until there was a pile on the floor.

“We have an hour,” Reyes repeated, as if he were profoundly disturbed by this simple fact.

Scott only snorted; an hour was more than enough time for anything Reyes had planned. In Scott’s plethora of experience, an hour was a luxury. Excessive usually. Totally and completely needless. “You could fuck me in fifteen and have all that time to spare.”

He burst into laughter at the look of horror on Reyes’ face.

“What a _waste_ ,” Reyes hissed as he settled between Scott’s legs, comfortable and at ease. He ran his hands from his knees to his chest, flicking at Scott’s nipples until his hands were slapped away and Scott was muffling laughter into his arms. “Forty-five minutes. And when I get back…” Reyes paused, pushed Scott’s knees to his chest and pressed close against them, eyes burning under dark lashes. “I’ll show you what I can do with a _night_.”

What Reyes could do with forty-five minutes when he was proving a point was hellish. Unnatural. Had Scott irrationally furious at previous lovers for giving him less. Reyes took him thoroughly, and when he’d fucked him into whimpering submission he changed tactics. Whispering obscenities and using hands and teeth and tongue to work Scott back up.

Building, in that moment, the beginnings of a perfect little bubble Scott wouldn’t bother to think outside of until someone else popped it. Nothing else existed beyond Reyes, beyond himself, and beyond the grimy little apartment they were in.

And it was _amazing_.

He didn’t think about the repercussions of throwing himself so fully into the bubble. Any Initiative responsibilities, anything pertaining to Alec or the kett, _anything_ that wasn’t Reyes, was put on hold. Erased for a few blissful moments, wiped away by Reyes’ hands on him.

Reyes brought him to another mind blowing climax, one that earned him a hand over his mouth to muffle the startled scream. He trembled and gasped and pushed back hard against the older man, then twisted awkwardly to meet a sloppy kiss that missed the mark at first. He couldn’t get enough of Reyes. The way he tensed when he came, how his breath broke across the back of his neck, how his grip on Scott tightened almost unbearably. As if Scott would float away if he let go.

Reyes gave him room to twist onto his back, both men heaving for air as they came down from the shared high. Reyes took a breath to speak first, but hoarse laughter bubbled out instead. “Jesus, Ryder—”

“ _Me_?” Scott barely sounded human and Reyes was trying to push the blame. “You’ve ruined me, Reyes.”

Reyes’ laughter quieted as he smiled and leaned down to press a softer kiss to Scott’s bruised lips. “Good.” He rolled from the bed with energy Scott couldn’t comprehend or relate to, so he stayed sated on the lumpy mattress and watched Reyes go from flushed and well fucked to smooth and in control.

“Mind telling me what your meeting’s about?” Scott asked idly, curious and aching to fill the silence. Give his mind something else to think about other than the way Reyes’ muscles shifted and bunched as he dressed.

Reyes gave him a sideways glance and smirked. “I’m getting a scrambler. They’re useful to have. And if Alec keeps his question simple, SAM can’t report where you are.”

Scott felt excitement begin to wipe away the exhaustion, at least for the time being. Reyes _wanted_ him, and for longer than a night. And was willing to ensure the chances of keeping him were higher than if left for Alec to easily discover.

He decided to test his luck.

“I’ll get cabin fever within a day…” He wanted to know what Reyes really did. How he conducted business, what exactly he smuggled.

The look Reyes threw him suggested he knew exactly what Scott was asking. “If you promise—”

“I promise.”

“We’re going to need to work on that… As much as I love a man who can agree to everything I say—” He cut himself off abruptly, and Scott wondered if he was more displeased or shocked by what he had said. A warning glance and they both disregarded it—an expression only. Of course. “If you promise not a name or detail leaves your mouth, you can come with me to _some_ meetings.”

Scott thought agreement was a given. Reyes shouldn’t have even needed to ask. Scott supposed he could let it slide though, considering he was technically a representation of the law, of good morals and ethics. And inviting him along to do smuggling business was kind of like inviting a cop to rob a bank…

Good thing Scott wasn’t working in security. Technically. Not anymore.

“Are you serious?” he asked, just to make sure. Dead serious in the face of Reyes’ easy chuckle and nod. “Can I… Can I call myself a smuggler?”

“I’ll give you a license, good for a week,” Reyes snorted.

He’d get to see how Reyes worked. What he did, how he did it; what he smuggled and how he got it. Weapons or medical supplies? Would exiles place importance on the kinds of things Vetra got for them? Snacks and books and old video games? Did Reyes do it all?

Reyes snickered, pulling Scott out of his thoughts. “You could just ask.”

“You could just lie.”

“That's fair,” Reyes conceded.

“Besides, the mystery of it all is kind of hot.”

Reyes fell into a fit of laughter, and eventually Scott gave into his own, feeling more relaxed and at ease for the first time in days.

Reyes finished putting himself in order and approached the bed, intensely satisfied as he bent over Scott. “I’m meeting a client tomorrow who probably wouldn’t kill me for bringing the Pathfinder’s son along… If you can get out of bed in the morning, you can come.”

Scott snorted, but before he could tell Reyes he hadn’t fucked him _that_ hard, Reyes was kissing him. Thorough and slow, Scott’s lips tingled long after he pulled away and murmured, “Wait until I get back.”

He called Peebee the minute the apartment door squealed shut—though his pleasure and excitement waned slightly after it took several attempts to connect. He had a lot to think about, a lot to say, and Peebee could possibly help sort it out.

Mostly, he just wanted to brag.

When the channel connected, he heard heavy breathing, hissed curses, and then a, “Scott, how are you even calling? Alec—who is waiting not-so-patiently in the Nomad for me _right now_ —locked your communication down.”

“On Eos,” Scott answered as he stretched and settled under the sheets. He briefly noted how nice the sheets actually were before saying, “Make Alec wait a little longer. Unless… you _don’t_ want to hear about Reyes?”

“ _Oh my god_.” Peebee growled suddenly, frustrated and impatient. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard and it’s pissing me off.”

“I haven’t told you anything!” She’d put two and two together and likely gotten eight—Scott felt like he’d done the same, however.

“Okay, let me guess, and tell me if I’m wrong; you got a hold of Reyes by sneaking around Eos until you found a half decent terminal, begged him with those pretty blue eyes to rescue you, and within the day he was landing a stolen shuttle and whisking you away. And now you’re calling me from his bed to tell me this.”

“I didn’t beg him with my pretty blue eyes, I _asked_ him. He also didn’t steal a shuttle.”

“Those are _technicalities_ , Scott. How good was it on a scale from one to ten.”

Scott gave that question the proper amount of consideration it deserved, then said, “He’s got more planned and I’m scared. In that good way, though, you know?”

“God, I wish,” Peebee grumbled, then cursed after a beat. “I hid behind a rock and Alec’s looking to collect. How about this, I’ll intercept as many calls from Bradley as I can so you can live the high life for a couple days. I’ll even tell Alec you were a call from a connection for Remnant pieces. I’ll have him planet hopping for two days.”

“You’re the best, Peebee.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Also, drinks tomorrow night in Tartarus.” Her voice faded slightly before the line cut, likely a glorified apology to get under Alec’s skin before she pulled the lies out of her hat.

Everything coming together to reinforce the bubble Scott happily lost himself in, ignoring the warnings his common sense was screaming. They’d only fall on deaf ears—with Peebee’s encouragement, and his own self-satisfaction (and mild exhaustion), there were very few concerns that seemed valid.

Sleep seemed more important than the risk Reyes represented.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter... has been the bane of my existence... for goddamn MONTHS. Holy shit. On the plus side, I found out I can, at the very least, force stuff out as long as I read. I can write if I read. Work through the block.
> 
> And this chapter was the source of a massive block. Oh my god. I'm not 100% happy with it, but it came and it is and so I will post just to get onto the next. I swear to god if I don't get back onto my Monday/Friday schedule I will Lose My Mind. 
> 
> I have 10 different file saves titled Chapter 15. Several are from Reyes' POV, a couple from Alec, one is from Sara, the rest from Scott in wildly different situations. I was desperate. Trying everything. I finally just settled. Oh my god someone just punch me please for this unintentional hiatus????

Scott may have been half-asleep when Reyes returned, but he was awake enough to know anger when he saw it. Even in shadow. A man didn’t load a gun like Reyes did, all sharp movements and careless force, unless he was angry. He moved with the purpose of a man ready to kill, and knowing Reyes had no qualms about murder… Scott thought a pointless prayer for the poor bastard Reyes would be after. Hopefully _later_ , Scott wanted to see Reyes’ face tight with frustration.

He hadn’t thought Reyes capable of much else other than mild displeasure. _At most_. Everything he did seemed to be planned, so he moved with measured ease and lazy grace. Never any rush. Even his passion was tempered. Always in control.

Scott stretched across the bed, his curiosity just strong enough to rouse him from the last of his sleep. Still bleary, though, with the ability to succumb to his body’s exhaustion at a moments notice. Hitting the switch on the dingy lamp beside the bed and forcing Reyes’ name out through dry lips, Scott even managed a smile when Reyes jumped—as if he’d forgotten he had Scott in his possession—and spun on him.

Maybe it was the shadow playing tricks on him, but Reyes seemed a bit wild eyed. _Hmm._ “Jesus, Ryder—”

“I think… I think I should be insulted,” Scott began, throat sore from prior use and voice hoarse from sleep. “You clearly forgot you had a very handsome, very naked, man in your bed.” He loved the way that seemed to amuse Reyes, just enough to shake the shock from his system and spoil his anger.

“With a rather large debt to repay, as I recall,” Reyes added for him. The wildness gone, replaced once again by familiar, lazy, ease. Scott was sorry to see it go.

Scott beckoned him closer with a few flops of the hand he wasn’t laying on. “What made you mad?”

An eyebrow arched. Surprised. Maybe he tensed a little at the reminder of his previous mood. “How long have you been awake?”

“You can’t load a gun around the sleeping son of an N7 and expect him not to wake up… You’re honestly lucky I’m so exhausted I didn’t reach for the pistol you keep behind the bed.”

Reyes’ surprise grew, he might have even been impressed, and he crept closer to the bed. Aimless almost, but too intentional. Scott waved again, growing impatient. “I wonder why you’re so exhausted,” he teased instead.

Scott wasn’t so stupid he noticed the evasion. He continued to encourage Reyes’ approach, until the man finally relented and slid under the sheets and against Scott. All was right with the world again, Scott decided. Sliding his hands under Reyes’ shirt, stroking firm planes of relaxed muscle, he asked again, “Why are you mad?”

“I’m not—”

“ _Were,_ whatever.” Closer, closer. Couldn’t get close enough.

The reminder alone seemed to call for Reyes’ irritation, darkening his expression and drawing his features tight. “Remember when you asked about Oblivion?”

An unpleasant reminder—unfortunately. Turnabout was fair play, Scott supposed. An otherwise pleasant memory completely ruined after leaving Reyes. Scott rolled onto his back and stared at the dim ceiling, growing more wake by the minute. “Pretty sure it’s why I’m here now. Indirectly, of course.”

Reyes must have sensed Scott’s personal displeasure, because he took his turn to sprawl across Scott. Fingers running lightly against bare skin and dragging his mind away from the bitter memory. “Then perhaps there is a God,” he mused, placing a chaste kiss to Scott’s shoulder. “I still have to clean up your father’s mess.”

“What?”

“I planted a seed. Didn’t quite grow into what I wanted,” Reyes offered as explanation. Scott couldn’t decide if he was skirting around the main point intentionally, or if it was just a matter of habit. Reyes certainly didn’t care to speak bluntly, preferring instead to work in circles from the outside in.

So Scott said again, “ _What_?”

The ghost of a smile and Reyes’ hand ventured lower. Scott promptly stopped its journey and waited with the patience only allowed to him by such severe physical exhaustion.

Reyes gave in a moment later. “I wanted Alec to know about Oblivion. I figured even as callous as he is—no, not quite right… I thought his callousness would be _useful_. He doesn’t put up with bullshit, he’s somewhat levelheaded and reasonable—“

Scott couldn’t resist a snort, which earned him a stinging slap on his hip and a chiding glance.

“—when not dealing with his idiot son, of course,” he continued lightly, smirking when Scott wrinkled his nose. “But I thought—I had hoped—that Alec would completely destroy it. All traces and sources of it. Free Kadara from it’s hold, so to speak.” The more Reyes spoke, the more he thought, the faster his anger seemed to return. The hand on Scott’s waist went from resting comfortably to a white knuckled grip leaving the slight bite of short nails on his skin. “But he let Farenth run back to Sloane. _With_ the drug information. Insulted the only doctor in the slums, effectively screwed us—”

“Wait,” Scott interrupted as his mind struggled to catch up. Trying and failing to connect the dots Reyes was giving him. “What—what’s the story behind Oblivion? And Sloane? And my dad?” The thought of Alec was threatening to burst the delicate bubble he was trying to live in, but Reyes was bothered by this. Bothered enough to take action that Scott wanted to be a part of.

“Sloane is the reason Oblivion has taken hold of the slums, though Dr. Nakamoto is partially responsible. He discovered the addictive properties, she utilized them for the population she exiled.” His voice was short, dark and bitter. His eyes seemed to spark dangerously in the low light, slightly unfocused and seeing right through Scott. “Nakamoto asked me to find someone to deal with it and I thought Alec would, at the very least, destroy the information.”

That meant Alec hadn’t… Scott felt the cold creep into his skin, remembered how tired Alec had been the morning he’d cursed the Oblivion ordeal. For what reason? He’d done… nothing. Absolutely nothing. “I’m guessing he didn’t…” Scott said, soft and quiet. He winced when Reyes sneered.

“He let Sloane’s doctor run away with every little detail she had, then returned to Nakamoto and accused him of _lying_. Right in front of the shipping crate he has to call a clinic.”

Shame made Scott’s stomach roll while anger flushed his face. Whatever Alec had been thinking had to have been influenced by his need for an outpost, which likely meant keeping Sloane happy. Feathers unruffled and her kingdom running just as she wanted it to.

They’d already activated the monoliths—Alec was a fool.

 _There was another option…_ “Reyes, do you know anything about the Charlatan?”

Maybe the question had come out of the blue for Reyes, or he didn’t understand what Scott was getting at. Blatant shock morphed quickly to panic, but only lasted long enough for Scott to wonder if panic was what he’d really seen.

He decided not, Reyes wasn’t the type to panic. What he’d seen had more than likely been confusion.

Reyes’ lips twitched before he responded, either resisting a smile or a grimace. “Like what?” Reyes asked, hands once again beginning to move. Tracing small, distracting circles that left his skin prickling wherever they went.

“Like… who the Charlatan could be,” Scott elaborated, voice catching slightly when Reyes dodged his protesting hand and caught his leg behind the knee. "If there's someone else vying for power... It'd be good to meet them."

Later, he’d realize Reyes was evading through distraction. Right then, however, he had to resist melting under Reyes’ touch just to keep his question at the forefront of his mind.

“Could be anyone…” Reyes murmured against his skin, eyes sparkling with mirth now instead of irritation. Lips trailing from collarbone to sternum, Reyes shifted over Scott, lifting the leg he had hold of just enough to give himself room. “Could be me.”

The rough drag of his clothes against Scott’s skin set him aflame. Arms up and around, pulling him closer to increase the friction—only logical response. As soon as he processed Reyes’ lighthearted response, he laughed. “Right. And Tann’s the Archon.”

Reyes looked up at him sharply, one eyebrow arched in disbelief. “Are you comparing _me_ to _Tann_? Scott, I think you may just regret that one day.”

“One day?”

“Right now.”

There was a possibility he would regret it—this thing with Reyes. _Meeting_ Reyes. Too many things Scott ignored for convenience, too many times he’d had to be willfully ignorant. But it seemed a small price to pay for Reyes’ hands on his body, lips forming nonsensical words against his ear, and that small smile that seemed so bright when directed at him.

He’d never had someone look at him, touch him, like that. Firsts were hard to ignore, even harder to let go of.

So Scott held on even tighter and surrendered himself to Reyes’ mercy. At that moment, and maybe _only_ at that moment, he had all the time in the world to do as he pleased without thought of consequence.

* * *

 

“Oh, holy _shit_ —what happened… you lucky bastard.”

Peebee went through all stages of alarm: first, spitting her drink out on the oblivious dancers below, followed by worried confusion, straight into awestruck understanding.

Scott still felt like he was riding high on the endorphins from that morning. Body aching in all the right places, in all the right ways, despite what most of the bruises could be interpreted as. Most, however, were hidden beneath clothes. A secret he could enjoy but wished would stay.

“You should see the other guy.” No exaggeration either, Scott had given as good as he got. Though Reyes, suited up and armed, could hide his battle wounds. Reyes hadn’t shown him the same courtesy, but that was alright.

Scott preferred to brag a bit.

If he hadn’t had plans with Peebee, he’d be disappointed Reyes hadn’t offered to take him along to hunt down Oblivion’s newest producer. He’d done the opposite, in fact. Insisting that Scott stay, that the people he needed to talk to weren’t Initiative friendly.

Not a great loss; he’d missed Peebee.

“A fucking of epic intensity has occurred in my life,” Scott sighed a bit dramatically, putting on a show for his friend as he sidled up next to her and watched the people below. He was growing to love Tartarus, how it was equal parts party and business, just not the legal kind… depending on where you looked. If Reyes showed, he wondered how easy it would be to lure him away from the business side…

“I hear fucking like that changes a man,” Peebee commented lightly, but her eyes were intense and serious and completely locked on Scott. Like she was inspecting a bug under a microscope. “So… How are you enjoying your time away from most things Initiative?” She offered him the last of her drink without words, nonchalant and carefree until Scott denied with a shake of his head.

“It’s okay,” Scott answered with a wave of dismissal. More than okay. Great, amazing. A day away with Reyes had already done wonders for him. No worries, no anxiety, just… enjoyment. He could be still for longer than thirty minutes, content to wait in Reyes’ apartment for his return. More patient than he’d ever been before while waiting for Reyes to come through on his promises that they would go out. Out to meet clients or _out_ to gather supplies.

The burning desire to act and fight that seemed to constantly rush just under his skin had settled to an easily ignored itch.

It was _amazing_.

Peebee saw it all on his face while shock encompassed hers. “ _Okay_? You just turned down a _drink_.” She smiled quick and easy and a little bit serious. “You know, I think Sara’s right. I don’t think you’re coming back, Scott.”

It was his turn to be surprised. He stared at Peebee like she’d grown a second head and might have even sputtered before asking, “Why wouldn’t I come back?”

Absurd. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Not completely unenticing…

But where would he go without the Initiative? The Tempest?

“Why _would_ you?” Peebee snorted, then looked down at her fingers as she ticked off reasons; “You’re unappreciated, Alec’s a dick, your sister's a tight ass— _no_ , I absolutely don’t believe you when you say she used to be fun—you’re kept on such a tight leash you can’t even blow when it’s allowed, and, most importantly, you hate it.”

Scott had nothing to say, so he said nothing. Instead, he unintentionally accepted her reasons by remaining silent, by avoiding her eyes.

“You absolutely fucking hate the Initiative, the rules, the politics. _Tann_. I know because so do I. I just handle it better than you because I am better than you.” She lightened her words with teasing, enough to make Scott throw her a bone and smile. Just a bit.

“Peebee… I’m not sure… I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here,” Scott admitted, watching her sheepishly. “I can’t just _leave_. I don’t—I don’t want to leave.” Unconvincing at best. He all but choked on the words. “What would I even _do_?”

“I’m not saying you _should_ , Scott. I’m just… pointing out your power here,” Peebee said with a careless shrug. She took a sip of her drink before swirling it around in the glass. “The Initiative needs you more than you need the Initiative. Your _desire_ to leave gives you power… Use it, just a little. Scare Alec a bit.”

Without the time to adequately dedicate to that train of thought, Scott filed it away for later. Amongst the other things he needed to think about, but likely wouldn’t. Filed it right away into the box of _Reyes_ , a box he really had no intention of opening.

Good timing, too, because Peebee seemed to remember something. She gasped, hand flying out to catch Scott’s arm as if he were going to leave. “Alec! Alec knows, Bradley finally got through to him. Determined son of a bitch, he called every twenty minutes. You’ve had a good run, babe.”

Scott laughed, unconcerned, and held up the little device Reyes had given him. “I have a scrambler. I’ve got time… I was planning on showing up in a week anyway.”

Peebee gave him a pitying glance and said, “Scrambler or not, you’ve got a couple days at most. The port’s small and Alec’s not stupid. He’s hunting Reyes down pretty much as we speak.”

“Guess it was too much to hope he’d check Voeld first.” Scott laced his words with sarcasm and leaned forward, crossing his arms on the railing.

“Scott, I’m going to tell you a true thing,” Peebee started, sudden and serious as a heart attack. All out of the blue. It earned his full attention, however, which he supposed was the point. “If you wanted to leave, you could—”

“No—”

“Yes, you could. Because whether either of you know it or not, you have Reyes. And here’s my truth, Scott Ryder. Well, _your_ truth. You’re a complete and total dumbass for falling in love with him. I think he’s even dumber for falling in love with you because I _know_ that screwed up whatever big plan he has in motion.”

His first instinct was to deny, and deny hard, and so he did. He _wasn’t—wouldn’t—_ and so it was. But Peebee’s hand darted out, quick as lightning, and pinched his lips together.

“I know because Reyes Vidal flew to the other side of the system to pick you up, and I know because you didn’t just call to tell me about great sex. You wanted me to say this and give you an excuse not to deny it because I will deliver you gift wrapped to Alec if you do.” She released his head and turned back to the small crowd below, apparently satisfied with herself. “That’s my true thing, Scott. What’s yours?”

Scott gaped like a fish for several moments, panicked—likely unnecessarily so—by her words. Unable and unwilling to say, or even _think_ , what she wanted him to say. There was peace in simplicity, no more than _this_ and nothing expected from _that_. Especially in regards to Reyes. What Peebee wanted him to acknowledge was the exact opposite of simplicity.

Because Peebee was right. He was a dumbass, completely stupid to even look at someone like Reyes. He knew better, or should have. But he’d been irrevocably drawn to Reyes in a way that felt out of his control, and it was easier to put the blame on something other than himself. Even if he didn’t know what that something was.

“I can’t, Peebee… Things will change,” he argued, miserable. Easier to pretend and ignore than face and acknowledge.

She looked ready to bite his head off, but her eyes fell on something just over his shoulder so she lifted her glass instead. “Speak of the devil and he shall appear… and collect,” she mused, eyes gleaming rather dangerously. “You’ll thank me for _everything_ one day, Scott. I won you a very pretty prize.”

Reyes was at his side before he could tell her to shut up, hand on the small of his back and so warm it was hard to resist relaxing into it. “I hate to interrupt—”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Peebee leered, smirking when Reyes rolled his eyes.

“—but Alec is on the hunt,” Reyes continued with slow nonchalance. Unconcerned, or maybe not. His jaw seemed clenched, just slightly. “Are you turning yourself in or on the lamb?” he teased, hiding any apprehension he might have had.

Scott blew out a breath, letting everything troubling he had to consider go with it. Grabbing the hand on his back, Scott decided very quickly, “On the lamb. Make him work for it a little more.”

Reyes’ grin, while mostly mischievous, seemed to be laced with relief. “I really love how you think, Ryder.”

Peebee snorted, but at Scott’s fierce glare kept her words, mostly, to herself. What was important was grumbled under her breath and carried away by the heavy electronic bass. What wasn't was shouted at their backs, "You're both stubborn and oblivious!"

Reyes, not one to ignore what really needed to be ignored, all but whispered in Scott’s ear, “I’ll ask later,” as he led them out of Tartarus—and away from Alec's oncoming warpath.

“Don’t,” Scott encouraged, trying for weary and mostly succeeding.

 _Please_.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos make the world go round, and effectively ruin me—I try to respond to those I can!


End file.
